


/ 



Class ~P Z a 

\ 

Book » C 6 r i 1 \j 

Coipgte^ 0 — 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



/’ 




















> 




























i. 

















































TIMBER WOLVES 


BY 

BERNARD CRONIN 
»• 

Author of “The Coastlanders” 


lOeto gorfe 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1921 


All rights reserved 



Copyright, 1920 and 1921, 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


Set up and electrotyped. Published, March, 1921 


V 0 <* 


MAR -9 1921 


§)& A611055 


DEDICATION 

“TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER” 







































I 



















FOREWORD 


T HE characters in this book are entirely fictitious. 
The most that may be claimed for them is that they 
are true to type. Of the incidents recorded herein 
some few, at least, rest upon a foundation of fact. 

Vice and virtue flourish alike in town and country. The 
aphorism that one half the world does not know how the 
other half lives may well find its application here. So long 
as men continue to gather together in odd corners of the 
land, so long will be found in their midst some whose pres- 
ence owes itself to the fact that civilization will no longer 
tolerate them openly. Such men admit no ties but those of 
self interest; claim no kinship beyond the common origin. 
In the seclusion of the outback they are at liberty to revert 
to grossness unspeakable. For the character of Tom Login, 
therefore, it is felt that no apology is needed. 

The Author. 
























































* 
























































CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter I 

Chapter II 23 

Chapter III 38 

Chapter IV 57 

Chapter V 81 

Chapter VI 100 

Chapter VII no 

Chapter VIII 131 

Chapter IX 153 

Chapter X 176 

Chapter XI 192 

Chapter XII 203 

Chapter XIII 21 1 

Chapter XIV , 231 

Chapter XV 241 

Chapter XVI 254 

Chapter XVII 266 

Chapter XVIII 271 

Chapter XIX 276 

Chapter XX 289 

ix 


X 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter XXI 305 

Chapter XXII 317 

Chapter XXIII 329 

Chapter XXIV 341 

Chapter XXV 352 


TIMBER WOLVES 


CHAPTER I 

I T was on a bleak day of late winter that news of old 
Richard Moyes’ death reached his solicitors, Messrs. 
Colvin and Heritage of Queen Street, Melbourne. 

The city was bathed in a cold, steady rain that set the 
gutters awash and sprayed icily against the lowered faces 
of the hurrying pedestrians. From the window of his room 
Robert Colvin looked down on the crowd of shivering work- 
ers, smiling contentedly as he noted the comfortable contrast 
afforded by his own surroundings. A coal fire was burning 
in the grate set at a corner of the room. Under foot a 
thick, if well-worn carpet, gave a pleasant feeling of warmth 
to the feet. Across the door leading into the outer office 
a curtain of thick tapestry was drawn, effectively blocking 
any remote possibility of draught. Draught was Colvin’s 
bugbear. In his way, he was something of a molly-coddle; 
a fact amply attested by the muffler around his neck and the 
carpet slippers encasing his feet. In appearance Colvin was 
tall and thin, with overlong limbs and rounded shoulders. 
He was at that period of life most easily described as elderly. 
From behind spectacles his small twinkling eyes regarded 
his fellows with speculative, though not unkindly interest. 
His voice was smooth and even, and curiously expressionless, 
even in moments of excitement. Taken altogether, he pre- 
sented the not uncommon picture of comfortable, easy-going, 
none too shrewd middle age. 

Crossing to the fire Colvin bent above it for a minute, 
warming his hands before settling himself at his desk. This 
done, he placed one lean finger on the bell-push at his elbow. 
The door opened and a clerk entered. 

“ Mr. Heritage come in yet, Seton? ” 

" Just come into the office, Mr. Colvin. Shall I say you 
wish to see him ? ” 

i 


2 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ As soon as he can conveniently manage it, please. And, 
by the way, bring me everything you can find in the way of 
papers relating to the estate of Captain Moyes. The mail 
this morning brings news of his death, Seton. He died last 
week in some out-of-the-way corner of Queensland; up in 
the Gulf country, I believe. Possibly you remember the Cap- 
tain ? Eh.? ” 

“ I think most of us in the office would remember Captain 
Moyes, sir,” said the clerk, with a slow smile. “A jolly, 
open-handed old fellow, was the Captain, in spite of his 
rather rough manners. I’m sorry to hear that he’s gone.” 

“ Well, well — it happens to us all,” answered the solicitor 
rather absently. He dismissed the clerk with a little nod and 
taking a flat tin box from a drawer of his desk began to 
busy himself with the contents. Glancing at several papers 
he finally selected one and laid it on his desk. The rest he 
returned to the box, which l.c then immediately locked. 
Hardly was the operation completed than his partner entered 
the room. Colvin looked over the top of his glasses with 
a little smile of welcome. 

“ Well, Johnnie? So here you are at last, eh? Lord, 
it’s cold enough in all conscience. Stir the fire, will you, 
and then come and sit down here. I want to have a chat 
with you.” 

The most noticeable difference between the partners was 
the disparity of age. Heritage was still short of thirty, a 
fine erect figure of a man, presenting a striking contrast to 
the thin, invalidish form of the senior member of the firm. 
In the sense of actual prepossession he was not good look- 
ing. At the same time, his features held that almost indefin- 
able expression which denotes a charm of character alto- 
gether apart from mere facial attribute. His eyes and hair 
were brown ; his mouth large but firm lipped ; his chin square 
and determined looking. When he smiled, which was not 
unseldom, he disclosed two rows of perfect teeth. In re- 
pose his face was strong and compelling, but relieved from 
actual sternness by the tiny lines of jovial humour which 
wrinkled the corners of his eyes. For the rest, he was an 
ordinary clean-living, healthy-minded youngster, possessed 
of average intelligence and singularly free from any sus- 
picion of snobbery. 

As Heritage drew his chair up to the desk Colvin smiled 


TIMBER WOLVES 


3 


again genially. “ You’re not looking altogether up to the 
mark, John, my son. If I didn’t know you so well I should 
begin to suspect the dissipation which appears inseparable 
from present-day youth. Heigh-ho! how the time flies! 
Well, what’s the matter? Fagged, eh? ” 

Heritage grinned. “ I could do with a holiday, of course. 
But then so could you. So could everybody, in fact. 
Spending money instead of earning it, eh? The working 
man’s dream. Seton said you wanted to see me. Anything 
special ? ” 

Colvin’s expression had sobered. He looked at his friend 
earnestly a few seconds before replying. “Johnnie, I’ve 
been having a heart to heart talk with myself. The result 
of my communings I pass on to you. My son, as a man and 
a gentleman, I find in you much to admire and love ; as a 
lawyer, however, I have come to regard you with something 
approaching horror. I despair of ever seeing you take an 
intelligent interest in your chosen profession.” 

Heritage stared at him open-mouthed. “ Well, I like 
that. What’s the matter with me? What have I done 
now? ” 

“That’s it. What have you done? Nothing — literally 
and in solid fact, nothing. Your heart’s not in your work. 
If it were not approaching a blasphemy to suggest it, I might 
easily infer that you loath the study of the law because it is 
the law. You . . .” 

“ Well, so I do,” admitted the younger man, relapsing 
once more into his cheerful grin. “ I hate and detest, and 
abominate the law and everything connected with it. Now 
be fair, Bob. You said just now that it was my chosen pro- 
fession, and you know it is nothing of the kind. Left to 
myself I should have qualified for a pirate or a bushranger, 
or something jolly of that sort. I took up this abominable 
grind just to please the poor old mater, God bless her sweet 
memory.” 

“ So you did, so you did,” conceded Colvin, rather hastily. 
“ The fact is, no matter how you come by it, that you don’t 
fit. You’re the square peg in the round hole. Now, Johnny, 
don’t get your back up. Wait till you hear what I have to 
suggest.” He took a paper from his desk and spread it 
open. “You remember old Cappy Moyes, eh? Well, he’s 
dead. I’ve just the barest particulars so far, but enough to 


4 


TIMBER WOLVES 


go on. Remember the instructions he left with us to be car- 
ried out in the event of his dying ? ” 

“ Generally speaking, I do,” said Heritage. “ I’m hazy 
about the details though. So old Moyes is dead, is he? 
Now I’m sorry to hear that, Bob. There was something in 
that old chap that always made a strong appeal to my senti- 
ment, supposing me to possess such a feminine attribute. 
Spin the yarn, there’s a good fellow. Oh, and I say, you 
don’t mind if I light a fag? Hang office rules. What’s 
the use of making a martyr of yourself, even if you are a 
dry-as-dust lawyer? Fire away! ” 

Colvin pursed his lips disapprovingly but made no protest. 
He tapped the paper in his hand. “ I can’t tell you anything 
much about Captain Moyes that you don’t already know. 
My recollection of him goes back about ten years. You were 
not with me then. Moyes came into my office one day and 
asked me to take entire charge of his affairs. He was a 
rich man even at that time. Certain speculations, which I 
flatter myself were suggested and carried out by myself, 
converted him into one of the wealthiest men in this or any 
other state. I am not absolutely sure of the figures but 
from memory I should say he leaves real estate and per- 
sonal effects to the value, roughly, of about £50,000.” 

Heritage withdrew the cigarette from his lips with a 
whistle of astonishment. “ God bless my soul ; as much as 
that? I always knew, of course, that he was beyond the 
ordinary, but I never even suspected those figures. Who 
inherits ? ” 

“ I have the Will in my hand. You can read it for your- 
self, later. It’s sufficient to say now that, with the excep- 
tion of a few charitable bequests, the whole of the estate goes 
to one Peter Philip Barkley, of parts unknown but dimly 
suspected. Moyes was never married and it appears that he 
has neither kith nor kin of his own. Barkley was an old 
shipmate of the Captain’s.” 

“ I see. By the way you say ‘ Peter Philip Barkley of 
parts unknown.’ Does that mean that you don’t know where 
to find him ? ” 

Colvin made a little gesture with his hands. “ It does. 
For all Moyes knew to the contrary, Barkley may have been 
dead these fifteen years or more. The two men were firm 
friends at one time ; they appear to have been inseparable. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


5 


Yet I know for a fact that they separated years ago and 
never met afterwards. There is a good deal of mystery at- 
taching to the whole business, if you ask me. They sepa- 
rated. Moyes travelled north and Barkley south. They 
appear never to have made any attempt at correspondence; 
which, considering I have the Captain’s word for it that they 
were as David and Jonathan, I take to be exceedingly 
strange. And yet reticence of a kind, especially as touching 
the sentimental, would be a natural trait in such characters. 
They were essentially men of action. Their friendship had 
been cemented by the adventuring together through a score 
of years. Each had on occasion saved the life of his friend. 
How they ever consented to part is a mystery to me. Yet 
there was no severance of personal friendship. They simply 
parted. Why, God knows. No doubt their reasons were 
good and sufficient.” 

Heritage made no comment. Colvin rose jerkily from his 
chair and began to pace the room. His eyes held a far-away 
look. Even a lawyer can respect romance. Presently he 
checked his stride and took up a position before the fire. 
He looked quizzically across at his partner. 

“ It is an idle speculation doubtless,” he remarked, in his 
expressionless tones, “ but can you suggest a probable reason 
for such remarkable behavior? I tried more than once to 
draw the old Captain but he refused point-blank to gratify 
my curiosity. I am as little curious as any man, but 
really ”... 

Heritage stirred sympathetically. “ I know. It does set 
one to thinking, doesn’t it? Well, if you ask me, I say some 
woman was at the bottom of it. The old cynical suggestion, 
eh? Cher ches la femme? God bless me, the world doesn’t 
change in essentials, for all this latter day talk of advance- 
ment.” 

“ I can understand that it might have been so,” said 
Colvin. “ Suppose both men to have been in love with the 
same woman. Nothing unusual in that, eh? Obviously she 
couldn’t accept them both. So being firm friends they let 
the best man win and played the game with each other. 
Well, we know Moyes never married, if Barkley did. And 
yet I don’t know. Perhaps the woman — if there was a 
woman — held views of the future which included neither of 
them. You never can tell what a woman will do.” 


6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Supposing we can’t trace Barkley? ” suggested Heritage, 
after a moment’s silence. 

“ In that case the hospitals benefit,” said Colvin testily. 
He began to drum on his desk with long nervous fingers. 

“ For the present we need not discuss the contingency. 
We are allowed two years in which to find Barkley — long 
enough, surely. Now this brings me to my point. Under 
instructions we begin to search for Moyes’ heirs at this very 
minute. Some one must therefore take the matter up right 
away. For obvious reasons I cannot do so myself. There 
remains yourself. Is there any reason — private reason, I 
mean — why you should not give this matter your own per- 
sonal attention; make it your own particular business, as it 
were? Expenses, I may say, are to be charged up to the 
estate. That is understood, of course. Well, what do you 
say ? ” 

“ Me?” 

“ Why not ? ” said Colvin patiently. “ I should have sup- 
posed you would jump at the chance. In this matter of 
tracing Moyes’ heirs there is contained all the elements of 
mystery and romance. Were I ten years younger and not 
addicted to catching such infernal colds I should certainly 
reserve the opportunity for myself. Besides, you will be 
quit of the office for an indefinite time. That, in itself, 
should be an inducement. As a lawyer you leave much to 
be desired. As a sleuth hound you may surpass yourself. 
Joking apart, will you take the thing up for us? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know.” Heritage’s face betrayed his sud- 
den interest. “ It’s worth thinking about. I shall have 
to take a course of Sherlock Holmes. The trouble with me 
would be that I shouldn’t know where to begin. It strikes 
me that looking for this man Barkley will be very much like 
hunting the proverbial needle.” 

“ I can help you a little there, I think,” said Colvin 
thoughtfully. “ Your haystack, supposedly containing the 
needle Barkley, is Tasmania. That much I learned from 
Moyes. In fact, I can give you the name of a definite local- 
ity in which to begin your search. The name of it is Timber 
Bend, and it is situated, I understand, somewhere on the 
northwest of the island. Ever hear of the place, Jack?” 
“ Can’t say I have. What sort of a place is it? ” 

Colvin smiled faintly. “ I believe it is a region principally 


TIMBER WOLVES 


7 


devoted to cattle-raising, lumbering, skin running (whatever 
that may mean) and sly-grog selling. Imports, unsuspect- 
ing new chums with well lined pockets ; exports, said new 
chums minus anything but a consuming desire to put as 
many miles between themselves and that part of the coast 
as they possibly can. From all accounts the natives are a 
tough lot. Don’t let me frighten you.” 

“ Carry on,” said Heritage briefly. “ Any other recom- 
mendations ? ” 

“ None that I know of. Unless you include their pleasant 
habit of cordially hating a stranger at first sight. At the 
same time, I do not think you need fear active cannibalism. 
The people are hardly far enough advanced for that as 
yet.” 

Heritage grinned dubiously. “ Quit joshing, Bob. I 
must say you make the thing attractive. I think I’ll take 
the job on if only to disappoint you. After all, I could do 
with a holiday and I quite agree with you that I don’t seem 
to be making a startling success in the office. Where did 
you get all this terrifying information from?” 

“ I ran against Gordon Stewart at lunch one day,” said 
Colvin. “ His firm have a timber concession near The Bend, 
as they call it. Gordon has never been to the place himself, 
but he says it’s quite common knowledge that some of the 
finest timber in the Commonwealth is to be found inland of 
the coast thereabouts. The big timber firms have had their 
eyes on the spot for a long time. Some of them are actually 
operating on the ground already.” 

“They are, are they? By jove, I wonder now, if Mr. 
Frame could tell me anything about the place,” exclaimed 
Heritage. “ He’s the big fellow in the timber trade, you 
know, Bob. I’ll take a run round to his house one night 
soon and ask him a thing or two. As it is, you can put me 
down on the pay roll right away as this firm’s private sleuth. 
I take the job.” 

“ That’s all right,” assented his friend, a shade abruptly 
it seemed. He fidgetted a little in his chair. “ Go ahead 
and see Sam Frame all you want to, if it pleases you. Only 
see here, my son, keep your business to yourself. I’m not 
— well to put it bluntly, as between friends, I don’t love 
Frame over much. I’d sooner run blind, as the saying is, 
on this matter.” 


8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Heritage protested. “Hang it, Bob, Eve known Frame 
since I was so high. Winifred Frame and I went to the 
same school. Sam Frame may be something of a hard 
character but I think he’s straight. Come, now.” 

“ I know, I know,” said Colvin pacifically. “ Only in 
matters of business, you know, it’s best to be on the safe 
side. In a thing of this sort there is ample room for im- 
posture. We can’t be too careful.” 

Heritage looked at him curiously. “ I know you don’t 
like the Frames, especially the old man. Why is that? 
What have you got against him, anyhow ? ” 

“That’s just it — I haven’t anything against him; noth- 
ing definite, that is.” The accuracy of his own admission 
gave Colvin an absurd feeling of annoyance. While it was 
true he did not like Sam Frame, it was likewise undeniably 
true that he could point to no concrete illustration in justifi- 
cation of his animus. It was simply that he felt Frame was 
in wrong somewhere. Behind the almost aggressive friend- 
liness of the big timber man Colvin had more than once 
thought to sense an indefinable spirit of hostility, as if 
Frame secretly sneered at the gullibility of those who took 
him at his face value. To the elderly lawyer, versed as he 
was in the psychology of his fellows, it had seemed too that 
Frame, for all his robust composure, had upon his mind 
something in the nature of a burden, some echo of past his- 
tory that explained the nervous pucker of his heavily lidded 
eyes, the almost hunted expression of his square jowled 
face. Colvin thought of these things but he did not utter 
them aloud. Instead, he brought the conversation back to 
the matter in hand. 

“Let me see — this is July. Suppose you made a start 
about the first of the month. That gives you plenty of time 
to formulate your plan of campaign and attend to any little 
private matters which may be on your hands. I’ll have 
Seton set to work to draw up a precis of Moyes’ instructions. 
He can also make arrangements for your expenses. Since 
you may be away for six months you had better open an 
account at the Bank nearest to Timber Bend. Other de- 
tails can be arranged as they present themselves. What 
do you say ? ” 

“ Suits me all right,” said Heritage, his momentary huff 
forgotten. “ Do you know, the more I consider this trip the 


TIMBER WOLVES 


9 


more the notion appeals to me. Well, I’ll get along to 
Frame’s as soon as I can. If the old man knows anything 
of the place he’ll tell me without any fuss. And, since you 
ask it, I’ll be mum over the real reason for my trip. All the 
same, I think you are slightly unreasonable, Bob.” 

Colvin settled himself at his desk without further com- 
ment. He thought he understood perfectly the attitude of 
the younger man towards the Frames, father and daughter. 
He had more than a suspicion that Heritage fancied himself 
in love with Winifred Frame. Colvin might have found it 
in his heart to condone this fact if it were not for his dis- 
trust of the girl’s father. He knew Frame to be intensely 
proud of his daughter. The timber man’s ambitions would 
certainly fail to include a young and impecunious lawyer, 
however otherwise estimable. Yet Colvin knew that it is 
the privilege of youth to be optimistic beyond all reason. 

Heritage himself was, at times, sadly puzzled as to his 
real feelings towards Winifred Frame. He was conscious 
of an odd feeling of restraint whenever he thought of her, a 
condition which annoyed him intensely because he failed 
utterly to understand from whence it arose. It was as if 
some sixth sense were calling a halt to the promptings of his 
youth and inexperience ; some hitherto unsuspected intuition 
which warned him to distrust the seeming fairness of his 
eager judgment. And this the more extraordinary in view 
of his entirely matter-of-fact nature. 

It was not till a fortnight later that he found an oppor- 
tunity to visit Frame’s house. He chose a Saturday after- 
noon for the call, knowing well enough that at such a time 
he must find the timber man at home. If Frame had a 
passion beyond his chosen business, it was for his garden. 
His spare time, if such a man could be said to have spare 
time, he occupied among his lawns and flower beds. Here 
it was that Heritage found him. Frame looked up hastily 
at the young man’s greeting. 

“Why, how are you, Jack?” 

Sam Frame was nearly fifty years old, though in actual 
appearance he might easily have passed for ten years 
younger. 

His eyes were large and deep-set, with a curiously direct 
gaze. His hair, slightly flecked with gray, was coarse and 
bristling, cropped close to the temples. His face was 


10 


TIMBER WOLVES 


square jowled, the cheekbones high and of a purple tinge by 
reason of the heavy growth of beard beneath. His neck was 
short and thick, showing at the right side a broad band of 
livid flesh, the scar of a wound evidently received at some 
period of an adventurous youth. At ordinary times this 
disfiguration was distinctly visible; in moments of excite- 
ment it swelled to a conspicuousness little short of repulsive. 
Taken altogether Frame’s features were those of a man of 
obstinate determination, almost vindictive will; a man care- 
less of his own or others’ feelings so he triumphed in his 
ambitions. Yet his voice was smooth-spoken and his eyes 
not unkind. 

“Well, where have you been this week or so?” he con- 
tinued. “ Too busy to come and see your friends occa- 
sionally, eh? Win was saying at breakfast this morning 
that you seemed to have deserted us altogether.” 

“ I have been busy, Mr. Frame,” said Heritage, shaking 
the big man’s hand. “ As a matter of fact, I’ve just dropped 
in to say good-by for a week or two. I’m taking a run 
across to Tasmania in about a week’s time. I may be away 
a week or six months. I can’t say yet with any certainty.” 

There was a barely perceptible pause before Frame re- 
plied, “Tasmania, eh? And what takes you over there? 
Holiday making, I suppose. I don’t know how you young 
men manage to combine business with pleasure in the way 
you do. I never could get the knack of it myself. So 
you’re tired of lawyering, is that it? and mean to have a 
fling away from the office?” 

“ It’s just a matter of business,” said Heritage, flushing a 
little. He wanted to tell the old man the reason for his trip 
but his promise to Colvin forbade it. Frame was eyeing 
him a trifle expectantly, he thought. 

“Well, well — just business, eh?” said the timber man 
good-naturedly. “ You do quite right to keep the matter 
to yourself. There, it’s all right. I’m not offended in the 
least. The essence of business is privacy. Tut ... no 
need to make excuses, man. Come along to the house and 
have a look at the new paneling I’ve just put in the hall- 
way. Every splinter of it is seasoned myrtle. So far there 
ain’t a sign of borers anywhere.” 

Frame’s devotion to the timber trade was almost fanatical. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ii 


He never wearied descanting on the superiority of the home- 
grown article as opposed to imported timbers. It was his 
pride that every stick contained in his own home was Aus- 
tralian born. He seldom lost an opportunity to proclaim 
the fact. He mounted his hobby now. 

“ Look at that flooring, Jack. Nothing the matter with 
that, eh? I got that Jarrah sent over from the West in the 
log and had it sawn on my own benches. Show me the 
Baltic Pine that can stand alongside of that. Been down a 
dozen years, and I’ll give a pound for every warp or buckle 
you can find. I tell you that one day the folks in this 
country will wake up to the fact that we can grow timbers 
ahead of anything the old world can show/’ 

“Of course we can,” agreed Heritage sympathetically. 
He had heard all this many times before, yet the repetition 
never bored him. While not holding such decided views as 
did the timber magnate, he yet understood enough of the 
value of Australasian timbers to enable him to take a de- 
cided interest in the matter. “ Of course, Mr. Frame, that 
is so. But, you know, a prophet is without honor in his 
own country. You say people won’t listen to you when 
you try to point out just what an asset this country has in 
her forests. Well, what else can you expect? We have the 
imported mania pretty badly just now. Whether it’s a State 
Governor or a tin of jam we don’t think we’re getting our 
due unless we fetch them from overseas. It’s all part of 
the snobbery of Free Trade.”' 

Frame gave him a quick glance from his heavily lidded 
eyes. “That’s it. But where is the sense of the thing? 
I tell you it nearly drives me wild when I consider the folly 
of our present administration. Look at those mantles. 
Anything wrong with the graining ? Any rot ? Any warp ? 
Don’t they look well ? Ain’t they solid enough ? And what 
are they, anyway? Imported woods ? Maple or mahogany 
maybe? No, sir. They’re just plain ordinary old stringy- 
bark, or messmate, as some call it, from Australian hill 
country. It gives me a pain in the head to hear the way 
some of the local fools talk. To hear them you’d think 
our timbers rotted in a week. I’d like to shove some of 
these little Australians in coffins made of Australian three- 
ply, and let them take their chance of busting out. They’d 


12 


TIMBER WOLVES 


be there till the crack of doom, and six months after that. 
Let me tell you that you don’t need to look outside of this 
country for any quality of timber you like to name.” 

They stayed a minute in the hall to admire Frame’s new 
paneling. It was of polished red myrtle, every grain smooth 
and sound as a bell. “ That come from Tasmania,” said 
Frame. “ I’m still a bit doubtful of its value outdoors ; I 
ain’t certain it will stand the weather. But put it in under 
cover and there ain’t its equal for wear and finish. And 
yet there are plenty of men in the trade that try to make 
out that myrtle hasn’t any market value. Bosh ! ” 

“ Don’t they use myrtle for tramway rails? ” asked Heri- 
tage. 

“ In some parts, yes. The wood grinds as hard as iron 
after a time. I was talking of joinery though. No, we can 
suit all comers. Take that match making firm that set up in 
business here a year or two ago. Didn’t see how they were 
going to keep up the supply of Norway pine for their 
matches. Reckoned we had nothing over here that could 
be worked easy enough. Well, what wood are they using 
for their matches now? I’ll tell you. Their substitute is 
Queensland hoop pine, and I ain’t heard any complaints 
yet.” 

“ One day others must think as you do, Mr. Frame,” said 
the young man, as they entered the dining-room. “ Once 
our Forestry Department organizes sufficiently to stop the 
waste of raw material that is going on all over Australia, 
and insists on a right value being placed on the home-grown 
article, then I fancy we shall be on the road to success. Get 
practical men into the Administration ; that’s the first step.” 

Frame smiled grimly. “ When that time comes (about 
the millennium, I should say), you’ll find me waiting on the 
doorstep. I’m keen on the attitude I’ve taken up, but I 
don’t try to make myself believe I’m anything of a philan- 
thropist. I’m out for business. And when they start look- 
ing round for the timber they can’t do without, it’s going 
to be Sam Frame they’ll have to come and ask it of.” He 
broke off abruptly. “ Hallo, here’s Win ! Blest if she ain’t 
been to sleep in her chair. Lazy little puss. Here, Chicken, 
wake up and shake hands with Jack. He’s crossing to Tas- 
mania in a day or so and wants to say good-by.” 

“ Tasmania? Whatever are you going there for, Jack?” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


13 


From the depths of her big, comfortable chair the girl thrust 
out a hand, yawning lazily. “ So that’s why we haven’t seen 
anything of you for such a time. You’ve been plotting to 
escape from your friends. Sit down, sir, and tell me all 
about it.” 

At sight of her, coiled languorously before him, yawning 
daintily between ripe lips that showed a vivid red against 
the pearly whiteness of her small, even teeth, Heritage’s 
heart began to race absurdly. As always in her presence, 
the restraint which held his more sober senses in check, be- 
gan to yield almost immediately to the subtle charm of her 
femininity. He bent eagerly towards her, a little bewildered 
by the nearness of her softly heaving bosom, the perfume 
of her billowy hair; sensing vaguely the faint sensuousness 
that seems to emanate from a woman barely awakened. 
Her eyes sought and found the homage in his. Through 
lowered lids she peeped at him, smiling a little, well pleased. 

“Well, sir? Aren’t you going to ask how I am? How 
horribly rude you are to-day.” 

Heritage drew back in sudden embarrassment. “ I’m 
sorry, Win. Well, and how are you? Hardly any need to 
ask, after all. You’re looking splendid. No, there’s really 
nothing to tell you. I’m just making an ordinary business 
trip to Tasmania. The details would only bore you.” 

She made a little mouth at him. “ Oh, business ? How 
I hate that word. And, pray, sir, what is this business ? ” 

Heritage stirred uncomfortably. It was one thing to 
evade the friendly interrogation of Sam Frame, but quite 
another to deny consolation to the pretty curiosity of his 
daughter. He mentally anathematized Colvin’s absurd cau- 
tion, labeling it mean and inexcusable. The girl, her eyes 
searching his face, seemed to divine his dilemma instantly. 

“ Oh, it’s a secret. I can tell from your face that it’s a 
secret. You’re frowning horribly. Jack, I adore secrets. 
Do tell me. I promise faithfully not to mention it to a 
soul.” 

He shook his head, smiling faintly. “ Honest, Win, it’s 
nothing of any interest. I’m sure I would tell you with 
pleasure, only you see I . . . that is, Colvin made me prom- 
ise not to talk shop.” 

A shade of ill-humor came on the girl’s face. “ I hate 
that old Colvin of yours. Surely you can tell your friends 


14 


TIMBER WOLVES 


a little of what you are doing, without him making a fuss 
about it. As if it was any of his business what you did. 
Do tell me, Jack. There’s a dear?” 

To Heritage’s infinite relief Frame came suddenly to his 
rescue. “ Don’t tease the boy, Win. He’s quite right. At 
the same time, there can be no harm in asking what part of 
Tasmania he is going to. No objection to that, eh, Jack?” 

Heritage was glad to modify his refusal. “ Certainly not, 
sir. I wish I could tell you everything. As a matter of 
fact, my objective is a place called Timber Bend, on the 
northwest coast of the island. You don’t know it, I sup- 
pose ? ” 

Frame gave a little exclamation of pleasure. “ Why, 
don’t I? Timber Bend, eh? Why, I’ve got leasehold over 
there. I’ve had a mill down on the Bend for two years 
past. At the same time, I’ve never actually set foot in the 
place, though I hope to pay a visit there very shortly. By 
the way, you can get me a little information while you are 
there, if you will.” 

“ Anything I can do, Mr. Frame, just mention it. Just 
whereabouts is Timber Bend? I’ve been wanting to ask 
ever since I came. I had the idea all along that you would 
know.” Heritage was glad to see that Win’s momentary 
irritation had passed. She smiled at him as she reached a 
slender hand to her father’s arm. “ Ever been to Tasmania, 
Win?” 

“ No. But Dad has promised to take me one day. I’m 
sure I shall be horribly sea sick.” 

Frame laughed as he patted her hand. “Not you, Puss. 
Now look here, Jack, I’ve a map of northwest Tasmania 
somewhere or other. That will tell you all you want to 
know. I think it’s in my desk here. Yes, by jove.” 

“ Now you see how it is,” he continued, spreading the map 
on the table between them. “ Burnie’s your port. From 
there you take rail as far as Malowa. The rest of the way 
you must coach it. And that’s no great hardship, they tell 
me. You’ll find the finest coach service in Australasia run- 
ning on that route. From Malowa to The Bend must be 
all of seventy miles. You won’t see very much on the way 
along because the roads hug the coast most of the way. The 
shaded parts of the map represent timbered country. The 
rest is mostly plain land, especially on the coast. Most of 


TIMBER WOLVES 


15 

it is V.D.L. holding, though some of it is Crown Lease for 
winter cattle runs.” 

Heritage studied the map with interest. While he did so, 
Win rose from her chair and joined them at the table, look- 
ing down between the heads of the men, a hand on the 
shoulder of each. The attitude of proprietorship, no less 
than the nearness of her presence, the caress of her breath 
against his cheek, thrilled Heritage pleasantly. As before 
he experienced a slight sense of bewilderment. 

“ I see. Thanks, Mr. Frame. This gives me a very fair 
idea of the lay of the country. By the way, you said some- 
thing about getting you some information while I am over 
there. Just what is it that I can do for you ? ” 

Frame bit the end off a cigar. “ I’ll tell you.” He hesi- 
tated a second, looking at his daughter. “ Win, suppose 
you run along to your room and try on some of those 
dresses you screwed out of me last week. I’ve a bit of 
business to talk over with Jack.” 

She made a little face at him. “ I suppose I’ll have to. 
I think you’re both horridly mean, though. Why can’t I 
stay and listen? I’m not a child.” 

“ You wouldn’t be interested, anyhow,” said her father, a 
bit sharply. “ There — run along, Puss. Jack is staying to 
dinner so you’ll have a chance later to talk all the gossip you 
wish.” 

As she went out of the room Frame turned to the younger 
man with a short laugh. “ She don’t like me keeping a 
thing from her; but what else would you do? Trust a 
woman with your life, if you feel like it, but don’t ask her 
to keep a secret.” 

He spread the map afresh across the table, resting a thick 
forefinger on the site of his timber concession. He looked 
at Heritage with peculiar directness. “ Of course, what I’m 
going to say ain’t for the newspapers. I can trust you where 
I can’t trust another. You’re not in the timber trade. It 
don’t matter to you one way or the other. I’ve most gen- 
erally found that a man’s actions are ruled by interest 
alone. And so they ought. Well, what about it?” 

Heritage hastened to reassure him. “ Oh, I shan’t talk, 
Mr. Frame. At the same time, if it’s anything you’d rather 
keep to yourself ...” 

The big man made a gesture of impatience. “ I just said 


i6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


I wanted to tell you. Know anything of the timber mar- 
ket? No; I can see you don’t. Well, now listen to me. 
As you know, we’ve got plenty timber in the Common- 
wealth, if it could be got on the market when it was wanted. 
The trouble just now is that the particular land of timber 
required in the building trade ain’t coming forward as 
quickly and as easily as it might. You and I know why 
that is. The stuff’s being allowed to waste wholesale. It’s 
all harvesting and little or no planting. The forests are 
thinning out. In a year or two there will be hardly a stick 
of accessible timber left. In certain quarters you can hear 
talk of re-aforestation — now, when it’s too late. Let them 
talk. All the timber they can plant from this on won’t 
affect the market in my lifetime, and that’s the only time I 
care to worry about.” 

As he warmed to his subject Frame’s face lost its look of 
heavy good nature. He stood squarely erect, his whole poise 
aggressive, his eyes glinting curiously. His cigar had gone 
out. Absently he tossed it through the open window to the 
path outside. 

“ Some timbers are more s valuable than others. Any fool 
knows that. Take blackwood, for instance. Putting aside 
its value for decorative fittings, it’s a wood the coopers can’t 
do without. The barrel trade must have it. If I told you 
how many blackwood staves were used every year by the 
big breweries you’d be astonished. Do you know what the 
ruling price for staves landed on the wharf in Melbourne is? 
It’s from 48/6 and upwards per hundred. Yet I can buy 
them at the stump for 10/6. Reckon those prices up for 
yourself.” 

“ Who gets the money ? ” Heritage ventured. 

Frame grunted. “We do. At least, we think we do. 
I’ve had my share so far and can’t growl. At the same 
time, I want more. And I think I see my way to getting 
it.” 

“ The margin seems wide enough to allow you a whacking 
big profit,” commented Heritage. “ Still, here’s a point I 
don’t get. Why don’t the breweries take up their own 
leases ? ” 

“ Because they ain’t awake. Pretty soon it’ll be too late. 
Let me tell you something that ain’t generally known. 
There’s a stave combine forming to handle the entire stave 


TIMBER WOLVES 


1 7 


market of the Commonwealth. We’re going to supply the 
breweries with all the staves they want — a million a month, 
if they can take them. They’ll buy from the Combine or 
they won’t buy at all. Most of the blackwood area is in our 
hands now. We thought, at one time, we had it all; not 
long ago news reached us that some of the sugar was still on 
the wrong side of the pot. It’s here that you can help me. 
If there’s timber country untouched around Timber Bend I 
want to know it. I believe there is, and so does Garraway, 
my manager over there. I want to make sure, and I want 
to do it in such a way that folks outside the regular trade 
ain’t going to notice what’s doing. It’s an ordinary business 
precaution. Otherwise I’d have the outsiders pricking their 
ears in a way that mightn’t suit. For one of our own men 
to start nosing around would be to look for trouble. But 
you they wouldn’t suspect. It’s quite a small matter I’m 
asking, but I’m willing to make it worth your while. Will 
you do it ? ” 

There seemed no reason why Heritage should hesitate 
over a decision, yet it is certain that he did. He said finally : 
“ Why, yes, Mr. Frame, I could manage that for you, I 
think. It’s little enough to do, anyway. Somehow, though, 
I wish you hadn’t told me about your plans.” 

Frame looked at him. “Why on earth not?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. The thought just came to me that 
I shouldn’t like it to happen that you came to regret your 
confidence. Things have such a queer way of turning out. 
I hate anything in the nature of business between friends.” 

“ Ain’t thinking of starting up as a rival in the trade, are 
you?” asked the timber man, half jokingly. “Well, go 
right ahead. We ain’t afraid.” 

Heritage colored. “ Good Lord, Mr. Frame, you know I 
never meant to suggest anything of the kind. I’ve cheek 
enough for some things, but hardly as much as all that. Of 
course you were joking.”' 

“ Naturally,” said Frame carelessly. “ Don’t worry about 
it.” He fell into meditative silence. He resumed after 
a while, “ All the same, you know, there are plenty of men 
would get to windwards of me in this matter, if they 
could. The timber trade is like any other trade. You got 
to get in first and then hold on in the face of all hell. The 
rights of it? I reckon that don’t trouble Sam Frame. I 


i8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


take an even chance with the rest, and what I get I keep. 
If any other man is strong enough to put me out of the 
running he’s welcome to do it. As far as that goes, there’s 
been one or two already that have tried to poach on my 
preserves. They got stung for their trouble.” He slammed 
the table with his hand. “ I tell you, Jack, the man that 
thinks he can butt into my game and get away with it ain’t 
right in his head. By God ! I’d squeeze him out of business 
if it cost me every penny I’ve got.” 

Heritage looked up in astonishment. Frame’s voice had 
become suddenly harsh and even menacing. His face was 
flushed, his eyes twinkled malignantly. Above the low edge 
of his collar the scar on his neck showed in livid relief. A 
certain grossness seemed to have taken the place of his 
former carefully held attitude of restraint. Heritage was 
suddenly conscious of a queer feeling of dislike and suspi- 
cion. 

Something of this must have shown itself in his face for 
the timber man checked his outburst almost immediately. 
Leaning over the table he once more referred to the map 
spread between them. “ As I told you, these shaded parts 
represent timber areas. Most of them are already taken up, 
as you see. This marking in red ink I put in myself. It 
outlines the position of a blackwood swamp we took up last 
year.” 

“ Is this an official map ? ” Heritage asked him. 

Frame appeared to hesitate. “ It is and it isn’t. It’s 
an exact tracing of the latest Government survey map. A 
friend of mine at Hobart got it for me. He wouldn’t like 
it to be known though. They’d probably kick up a shindy 
in the department if they heard about it.” 

Frame had made a quick return to his genial manner, but 
his laugh still grated a little. Heritage stirred uncomfort- 
ably at the sound of it. In all the years he had known 
Frame he had never, until this evening, encountered this 
side of the old man’s character. He began to realize that 
he knew very little of Frame after all, and what he did 
know was purely of a social nature. From a business point 
of view the big timber man was an utter stranger. The 
discovery affected Heritage unpleasantly. He began to 
wonder what kind of an antagonist Frame would make. 
Half forgotten tales of Frame’s lack of sentiment, his utter 


TIMBER WOLVES 


19 


disregard of principle — tales aforetime dismissed con- 
temptuously as the spiteful belittling, the interested discred- 
iting, of jealous trade rivals — came back to his mind. 
There were stories too, he remembered, of Frame’s do- 
mestic affairs. There was also a good deal of mystery 
about his antecedents. Where had he come from orig- 
inally? Why was it that he never mentioned his wife’s 
name? Who had she been? and what were the circum- 
stances of her death? Hitherto Heritage had always re- 
fused to listen to what he considered the idle scandal which 
pursues every public character. Yet now even his fancied 
loyalty to Winifred Frame, could not blind the suspicion 
which crept into his mind. On Frame’s own admission his 
business dealings were queer, to say the least of it. 

“ So you see that my information is about as exact as you 
can get,” continued the timber man. “ I got two of these 
maps. One of them — this one, you can take away with 
you. I’d like you to mark off on it roughly just where- 
abouts you think there’s any unoccupied timber country to 
be found. That’s all I want you to do. The rest will be 
up to me. How about it ? ” 

The question was asked carelessly, but there was no mis- 
taking the swift anxious glance which Frame shot unno- 
ticed at the younger man. Heritage repeated his former 
assurance. Under the circumstances he could hardly do 
less. 

“ I’ll do what I can, Mr. Frame. I’m no bushman though, 
so I’m hardly likely to discover land which has been over- 
looked by your own men, let alone the folks who live in the 
district. I wish you had chosen some one else though. 
I’ve all the will in the world to serve you, but I’m doubtful 
of my ability. By the way, do you hold the only conces- 
sion on Timber Bend?” 

“ I believe so.” Almost immediately Frame qualified the 
statement. “ At least, I don’t know of any others. Unless, 
of course, you count Stewarts; but their holding is really 
south of the Bend proper.” He looked across at Heritage 
with an air of relief. “ So that’s settled. I’m really obliged 
to you, Jack. You won’t mention anything of this outside, 
naturally.” 

“ Certainly not,” replied Heritage, a little stiffly. Now 
that he was committed he was feeling dissatisfied with the 


20 


TIMBER WOLVES 


whole undertaking. Of a sudden his viewpoint had changed. 
His glimpse of Frame the business man (the real Frame, as 
he told himself) brief though it had been, was almost a 
revelation. The old-time boyish homage which he had en- 
tertained for the big, bluff timber merchant yielded mys- 
teriously to the deliberate summing up of one grown man 
towards another. The result was disappointment and a 
vague uneasiness. 

It was in this mood that he met Winifred Frame at the 
dinner-table. And here again his new viewpoint intruded 
itself. True, his pulses quickened at sight of her beyond the 
gleaming napery and polished appointments of the table 
between them, but much of the old-time fascination was 
lacking. For the first time in his life Heritage found him- 
self viewing the girl critically, and was amazed at the 
doubts which assailed him. It seemed as if Win sensed a 
little of what was passing through his mind, for her lips 
pouted childishly and her eyes, meeting his, held a vague 
challenge. 

Throughout the meal Frame conversed pleasantly enough. 
He spoke principally of his own business and Heritage be- 
came instantly impressed by the old man’s undoubted grip of 
his subject. In spite of himself he was intensely interested; 
so much so that he began to ply Frame with questions. Win 
fidgeted in silence. Plainly the conversation was boring 
her. Quite suddenly she broke into remonstrances. 

“ Oh, bother your old timber. You’re both of you neg- 
lecting me shamefully. Jack, do tell us a little about your 
trip. Such a mysterious young man you can be when you 
choose. And I’m simply dying with curiosity.” 

Her father shook a warning finger at her. “ Now, Puss, 
can’t you leave the boy alone? There may be reasons, you 
know, why he can’t tell us. No doubt we’ll hear all that’s 
good for us.” 

Heritage looked at him gratefully. “ I’d like to tell you 
all about it ; only, you see, our business is mostly confidential. 
We can hardly violate a confidence. I doubt if you’d be 
interested in any case.” 

“ But we are your friends,” protested the girl, coaxingly. 
She flashed a smile at him. “ We shouldn’t breathe a word. 
And we’d be most frightfully interested — really we would. 
You simply can’t refuse to tell us a little.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


21 


Heritage shook his head once more, but not quite so 
decidedly. “ You make it hard to refuse. You see my 
promise to Colvin binds me. Still, I might tell you a little. 
My trip has to do with a late client of ours. Just the un- 
dertaking of a little commission in accordance with his in- 
structions. I don’t suppose it will amount to anything much 
after all. I hardly expect to be gone more than a month 
or two at most.” 

“A late client? Then he’s dead? How perfectly ex- 
citing. Who was he ? Did we know him ? ” 

Heritage smiled at this flood of feminine curiosity. “ I 
don’t think you ever heard of him. In his way he was a 
kind of a hermit, was old Dicky Moyes.” 

He was looking directly at her as he spoke, admiring the 
handsome profile of her face as she turned towards her fa- 
ther. He saw her half rise from her chair, and a little 
exclamation escaped her. 

“Daddy? . . . What is the matter? Jack . . . my fa- 
ther is ill.” . . . 

Frame waved them back reassuringly. “ It’s nothing. 
I . . . fancy I’ve been overdoing things a trifle, that’s all. 
I ... I shall be all right in a second. A little faint.” . . . 

The old man’s mottled face was strangely gray. His 
breath was hurried and the hand he raised to his forehead 
trembled slightly. In genuine concern Heritage persisted. 
“ Let me help you to a sofa, Mr. Frame. Win, will you 
fetch a glass of water?” 

Frame made an effort to smile. “Water? Bah, do you 
want to poison me? There, I’m all right again. Did I 
frighten you ? Eh, Puss ? ” He patted her arm clumsily. 
“ Go ahead with your story, Jack. I’m afraid I wasn’t 
listening. You must excuse an old man’s ill-health.” 

Heritage had resumed his seat. He was wondering a 
little at the unconcern on Win’s face. “ That’s all right, 
Mr. Frame. I was just saying that the name of the late 
client whose affairs necessitate a trip to Tasmania, was 
Captain Richard Moyes. You did not know him, I think?” 

Frame shook his head slowly. “ Who was Captain Rich- 
ard Moyes? One of the big shipping company’s men, I 
suppose ? ” 

“ He wasn’t that. To be quite candid, I know very little 
about him. He was not what you could call a communica- 


22 


TIMBER WOLVES 


tive kind of man. He kept his affairs to himself ; especially 
the events of his past. I don’t even know how he got his 
title. From what he let out I should judge that he hadn’t 
been afloat for at least fifteen years prior to his death, 
which occurred about three weeks ago.” 

“ And that is really all you know of him ? How strange,” 
remarked the girl. She patted her yellow hair into place 
with one tiny jeweled hand. “ Can’t you tell us where he 
came from ? ” 

“ Neither I nor any one else can tell you that,”' said Heri- 
tage gravely. “ I tell you, Win, the man was an unknown 
quantity. He lived the life of a recluse, although he was 
immensely rich. About his past life he was as close as an 
oyster.” 

“ Well, well, that was his affair, after all,” remarked the 
timber man. Some quality in his voice attracted Heritage’s 
attention. He almost thought he discerned a note of relief 
in the rather impatient utterance of the big man. The no- 
tion was an absurd one, but strangely enough he could not 
dismiss it from his mind. He was still puzzling over it 
when, some two hours later, he said good-by to the Frames 
and wended his way back to his lodgings. 


CHAPTER II 


H ERITAGE’S first glimpse of Tasmania was received 
through the swinging port-hole of his cabin. He 
had an impression of gray mist and tumbling wa- 
ter, low hills of green against the swelling background of the 
dawning sky, rocks that loomed sullenly beyond the fast 
clearing haze. 

The trip across Bass Straits had been rough but unevent- 
ful. Of his fellow passengers he had seen little or nothing 
— and had been heartily glad of the fact. Indeed, for the 
greater part of the time he had been compelled to remain 
prostrate in his berth, the while he marveled at the ca- 
pacity of the human body — his human body, to suffer. At 
about midnight he fell into uneasy slumber, to be awakened 
in the early hours of the morning by the clattering of the 
winches on deck as the vessel was wound to her berth at 
the wharf. As Heritage lowered himself to the floor of 
his cabin and felt groggily around for his clothing, a stew- 
ard entered with a cup of hot coffee and a dry biscuit. 

“ You for Burnie or Devonport, sir, ” 

“ I’m not in the least particular, so long as it’s good dry 
land,” said Heritage, grinning at the man feebly. “ You 
blessed creature, is that coffee for me?” He sucked at it 
thirstily. “Yes, I’m for Burnie. Is this it?” 

“ Yessir. Just made the wharf, sir. Breakfast in the 
saloon in twenty minutes. Shaving water, sir ? ” 

“ Good Lord, no ! ” Heritage felt gingerly at his whirl- 
ing head. “ As for breakfast, you can eat mine as well as 
your own, and be hanged to you! I tell you what it is, 
steward, a nice little old profit your company makes out of 
passengers like me. I haven’t wanted to taste food since 
I came aboard, and I don’t think I ever want to eat again. 
I’ve a dashed good mind to tackle the purser for a refund ! ” 
The man grinned mechanically. He was used to the 
grumblings of disgruntled travelers. “ Yessir. They nearly 
all say that on a first trip, sir. Shall I get you a cab ? ” 
“No . . . that is, yes. I say, steward, can you put me 
23 


24 


TIMBER WOLVES 


on to a decent hotel in this town? You ought to know the 
merits of most of them.” 

The steward had switched off the electric light and was 
now unscrewing the cap of the port-hole. He looked round 
with a nod. “ As you say, most of ’em, sir. I got a cousin 
works at the Court Hotel. They run their own cab. If you 
like I’ll get word along to their driver.” 

“ Do, there’s a good chap ! ” said Heritage. Now that 
the jarring thud of the ship’s propeller was stilled, and the 
vessel resting quietly at her berth, his discomfort was fast 
disappearing. The wind came freshly through the open 
port-hole, clearing away the stuffiness of the cabin as if by 
magic. All about him sounded the tumult of busy ship- 
board; the trampling of feet on the deck over his head; 
the clatter of the winches winding cargo out of the holds; 
the rattle of wheels on the wharf ; the shouting of innumer- 
able voices and the shrill hooting of an engine. 

A little later Heritage found himself walking groggily up 
the wide hall of the Court Hotel. A sleepy night-clerk eyed 
him with surly interest as he walked up to the box office. 

“ Wanta room? ” 

Busy checking his baggage, Heritage forbore to answer 
immediately. The hostile stare of the clerk deepened. He 
snapped again: “You . . . wanta room?” 

“ Depends on how the trains run,” said Heritage, straight- 
ening himself. “ I want to catch the first going to Malewa 
— wherever that may be. What time does it start ? ” 

“One-thirty. Wanta room?” 

Heritage could hardly restrain a smile at the parrot-like 
persistency of the man. “ I’m sorry. Yes, I suppose I 
may as well take a room. I could do with a lie down. 
Certainly I’ll take a room.” 

“ Then you can’t get one — full up to the roof,” grunted 
the clerk triumphantly. He added with some show of re- 
sentment, “ Something funny about me? When you laugh 
like that you need a blind hung in front of your face. I 
can see the corns on the insides of your feet.” 

Heritage hastened to excuse himself. “ Sorry to rile you. 
The fact is, I’m still sea-sick. Well, how about letting me 
have the use of a bathroom and something to eat later on ? ” 

“If you pay for ’em! Wanta leave your traps in the 
office? Cost you thruppence each.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


25 


Heritage handed in his portmanteaus and received in 
exchange the usual brass check. “ It will be money well 
spent. I’ve just landed from the Oonah. We had a rotten 
trip over.” 

“ That so ! ” The clerk yawned openly. Diving into his 
pocket he brought to light an unsavory looking briar and 
began to fill it. Acting on impulse, Heritage produced his 
cigar case. 

“ Try one of these. They’re rather decent. By the way, 

I met a cousin of yours aboard ship, I think. A steward by 
the name of Robinson. I came up here on his recommen- 
dation.” 

The clerk thawed perceptibly. “ Thanks. So you know 
Bill, eh ? Reckon he always sends them along here. Gosh ! 
pipe-smoking gets sort of monotonous, don’t it? You can’t 
beat a good cigar!” He lit up, then ran his fingers 
through his untidy hair in apologetic fashion. “ I say, I’m 
sorry I was a bit rattled at you jess now. Thought you 
was one of them ordinary, whiskey-stinking commercials. 
Hotel hogs, I call ’em. Come in and jolly a chap as if they 
owned the whole joke. Gets on your nerves when you’ve 
been out of your bed all night. They’re a breed of their 
own, them sort ! Forget my grouch.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” said Heritage cheerfully. “ Where 
did you say that bathroom is ? ” 

The night clerk sucked gratefully at his cigar, removing it 
finally to blow a thick cloud of smoke ceilingwards. He 
reached out his hand and selected a key from a number on 
the wall at his elbow. 

“ First floor, second door on the left — number 46. And 
see here, Mister, I reckon I made a mistake jess now when 
I said we were full up. My memory ain’t always the same. 
If you feel like a lie down, this other key shows you how. 
Number 54 along the corridor on the same side. Bed ain’t 
made up, but there’s enough of a mattress to let you spread 
yourself. And you don’t have to pay.” 

“ Well, that’s certainly good of you. I can find a use 
for that mattress all right.” Heritage was secretly con- 
gratulating himself on the successful results of his diplo- 
macy. He took the keys and started upstairs. “ I’m much 
obliged.” 

“ Forget it,” called the clerk after him, turning imme- 


26 


TIMBER WOLVES 


diately to gla^re at a fresh arrival in the lobby. His raucous 
inquiry floated up to Heritage’s ears. 

“ Morning you. Wanta room? ” 

After breakfast Heritage wandered outside into the 
streets. He had yet some hours to while away before his 
train left. In the meantime he was anxious to gain his first 
impression of things. The sky, which had been slightly 
overcast at daybreak, was rapidly clearing. In full day- 
light the little town showed even more of charm than he 
had suspected. From where he was standing the ground 
sloped fairly steeply towards the foreshore, so that the 
whole prospect lay, as it were, at his feet. And it was one 
of quaint charm. 

Over the clustering roofs immediately before him peeped 
the tremulous blue of the ocean. On either hand green hills 
closed around, in parts sweeping down to the very lip of the 
sea. Here and there the hills were capped by fringes of 
olive green foliage where the wind-swept tea tree hugged the 
rising ground. Between the roofs of the houses little clus- 
ters of trees seemed to spring upwards to meet the warm 
sunshine. With each passing breath of wind a slow ripple 
of color stirred the glistening leaves. A tang of salt was 
in the air, clean and invigorating. 

Heritage sauntered slowly along till he found himself on 
the wharves. The Oonah had already sailed for her next 
port of call. Far down the coast a smudge of gray smoke 
marked her course. On the railway pier men were unload- 
ing bags of potatoes into well-built stacks. A light engine, 
with seemingly purposeless energy, darted here and there 
to the accompaniment of shrill whistling. The driver, a 
little paunchy man clad in greasy overalls, called a “ Good- 
morning ” as he rattled past. 

The scene, though fairly familiar to Heritage, was in some 
respects novel. Several things attracted his attention as 
being patently Tasmanian. There was, for instance, a pe- 
culiarly built vehicle called a float, used for light carting 
to and from the wharf. The axle was very low and the 
wheels seemingly out of proportion. Yet the immense ad- 
vantage such a vehicle might afford in loading and unload- 
ing as against the higher-built, high-sided carts in use on the 
mainland, was instantly obvious. Heritage wondered why 
floats were not in evidence on the other side of the Straits. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


27 


Another monopoly appeared to be a kind of rough woolen 
overcoat which some of the men were wearing. It was an 
awkwardly built, absurd-looking garment, reaching scarcely 
below the level of the knees, and having thick cuffs and 
wide spreading collar. He was to learn later that the 
“ Bluey,” as it was called, has no rival in point of the re- 
sistance it offers against the cold rains and biting winds of 
the northwest winter. On a first acquaintance, however, 
Heritage smiled somewhat superciliously ; picturing to him- 
self the amusement of his friends were he suddenly to ap- 
pear among them clad in such a shapeless, cumbersome 
garment. 

Towards noon Heritage returned to his hotel. Almost his 
own man again he attacked his dinner with such gusto as to 
render the freckled-faced waitress almost speechless with 
admiration of his powers as a trencherman. Afterwards he 
went down to the hotel office to claim his baggage. His 
friend the night clerk was no longer in evidence, having gone 
to retrieve his lost sleep. Heritage put a couple more cigars 
in an. envelope and left them for him in charge of latest 
authority. 

The engine was already coupled to his train when he 
reached the station. He had barely time to throw his traps 
into the van and climb aboard before they were off. With 
a carriage to himself he was able to view the prospect on 
either side without interruption. For the first part of the 
journey the line hugged the coast; so closely in places that 
the smiling blue waves almost lapped the ends of the sleep- 
ers. Within a few yards of the carriage window the wa- 
ters of the bay danced and sparkled in the ripening sun- 
shine. In the far distance fluttered the dim sails of various 
small fishing craft, and beyond these the faintly discernible 
outline of the hills bordering the further shores of the bay 
itself. 

Presently the line left the coast and curved inland over 
the level bed of a wide valley. The country began to open 
out in one grand sweep of hill and vale which rose steadily 
upwards to meet a snow-capped range of mountains that 
hung magnificently against the steel-blue screen of the 
horizon. At Malewa Heritage left the train and joined the 
waiting coach for Selby. It was dark by the time they 
reached their destination. Utterly fagged after the unac- 


28 


TIMBER WOLVES 


customed journey Heritage was glad to tumble into bed at 
the first hotel they came to. He slept like a log until roused 
by the hotel “ boots ” in the early hours of the morning, in 
time to catch the on-going coach for Green Valley. 

This time he secured a seat on the box alongside the 
driver, a lean, weather-scarred, taciturn personage, alter- 
nately smoking and spitting. The flat roof of the coach 
was piled high with all kinds of luggage. Inside were three 
or four commercials, an old farmer, and a young woman 
carrying a child. The commercials, after the manner of 
their kind, were already stretching a rug preparatory to the 
inevitable game of cards. The reek of their cigars was at 
once apparent. Heritage leaned back contentedly in his 
seat, listening drowsily to the steady, rhythmical beat of can- 
tering hoofs as the heavy coach swung smartly along the 
metal road. A touch of frost was in the air. The light 
breeze was fresh and salt-laden. As the morning advanced 
the low scrub-crowned hills which kept pace with the wind- 
ing road became tremulous with light and shade. Birds 
twittered from the shelter of the bushes. Everywhere the 
purple shadows of night began to yield to the gray charm 
of morning. The whole countryside sprang into vivid re- 
lief. 

For a couple of hours the journey proceeded without in- 
terruption, saving a pause of a few minutes while the horses 
were changed at a wayside stable. Then, quite suddenly, the 
monotony was broken. Over the crest of a low ridge flank- 
ing the road ahead there appeared the solitary figure of a 
running man, lumbering heavily towards them across the 
uneven ground. At sight of the coach he began to gesticu- 
late violently. Even at that distance Heritage could see 
that he was a man of immense avoirdupois. His distress 
was easily apparent. It seemed as if he would collapse at 
any moment. 

Scarcely had Heritage time to note these details than two 
more runners shot suddenly to the skyline, hesitated the 
fraction of a minute, then sighting their quarry afresh came 
on with shouts of unmistakable hostility. The stout fu- 
gitive heard and, with a little bleat of fear, precipitated his 
bulk downward over the edge of the cutting, striking the 
roadway almost beneath the wheels of the now smartly 
checked coach. He was up again instantly and clawing his 


TIMBER WOLVES 


29 


way up and over the swingle-bars to the vacant seat beside 
Heritage, where he subsided wordlessly. The whole inci- 
dent came about with such startling suddenness that the 
man was settled beside him almost before Heritage had 
time to realize what was happening. 

The driver was trying to steady the horses. A stream of 
oaths escaped his lips. From within the body of the coach 
arose a chorus of questioning voices. The foremost pur- 
suer had leaped down the cutting at about the exact mo- 
ment the stout fugitive landed on the box seat of the coach. 
He clutched wildly at the escaping coat-tails, missed, and 
aimed a furious blow upwards. It landed mistakenly upon 
the tender part of Heritage’s fore-arm, which he had thrown 
out instinctively to maintain the precarious balance of the 
escaping man. Stung by the pain and almost before he 
realized what he was doing, Heritage lashed out in return. 
The blow took his unknown assailant squarely in the face. 
He fell from the wheel into the roadway with a startled oath. 
At the same time, the driver released his hold of the horses 
and the coach bounded forward in a smother of dust. 

As the shouting of the pursuers died away in the distance 
the stout intruder removed the felt hat from his head and 
began to mop at the perspiration streaming down his ample 
face. 

“ Well, by gum ! ” he panted. 

To Heritage the most amazing part of the whole affair had 
been the utter indifference of the driver. Except to curse 
the horses the man had not opened his lips throughout the 
proceedings. He appeared to regard matters as being not 
at all out of the ordinary. 

The stout man, somewhat recovered, was regarding Heri- 
tage with little friendly, twinkling eyes. His cheeks were 
fat and shining, and his upper lip sprouted an untidy mus- 
tache. His head was as bald and polished as a section of 
beeswax. He spoke in little jerky sentences. 

“ Well, by gum ! That’s certainly one I owe you, Mister. 
I thought I was a goner that time! You can count on 
Charley Salter any time you like. That smack you landed 
Jerry Summers must pretty near of bust his face into kind- 
ling wood. Whoof! . . . jess like that it sounded. Reckon 
your knuckles is sore, ain’t they ? ” 

Heritage laughed a trifle ruefully. “ They are a little. 


30 


TIMBER WOLVES 


I’m glad to have helped you, I’m sure. I’m sorry though 
that I lost my temper and hit that man. I’m a stranger to 
this country and don’t want to make enemies unnecessarily. 
Those men were certainly mad about something.” 

The stout man assented with a grin. “ Mad as a bagful 
of snakes. By gum, I never run so hard in all my life be- 
fore! You might have noticed that I ain’t over and above 
thin. I was about played out when you first saw me. If it 
hadn’t been for you I reckon they’d have caught me right 
enough. I can hear that smack of yours yet. Whoof ! . . . 
jess like that. Lemme tell you Charley Salter’s your friend.” 

The coach driver appeared to wake suddenly from his 
lethargy. “ Well, maybe you ain’t lucky ? Some one’ll be 
hung for you yet, Charley. What’s the row about this 
time ? ” 

Salter’s face took on an expression of comical protest. He 
squirmed in his seat. “ Jess a li’l misunderstanding, Jim. 
I give you my word it was no more than that. Gosh ! some 
people ain’t never satisfied. I sold them Summers men some 
cows and ...” 

“ There you are,” exploded the driver. “ You sold them 
some cows. Of course! That’s just what you would do. 
Only I’ll bet it wasn’t cows they got. Goats maybe; or 
badgers. I know your tricks ! ” 

“ Well now, listen to him talking,” said the stout man 
quite unoffended. “ I tell you you’re all wrong. I sold 
them cows and it was cows they got. There weren’t no trick 
in it; only jess my bad luck. Old man Summers wanted 
some * fats,’ and I says yes, I got some. So I have. I 
ain’t got any steers, but maybe I can dig up a hefty cow or 
two. Now I ast any one, how was I to know that two out 
of three of them old hulks of cows was nigh calving?” 

“ Well . . . that’s a h — 11 of a likely story, that is,” 
said the driver, spitting over the wheel. “ Mean to say you 
never knew them cows was that way? You bet your sweet 
life you did ! ” 

Salter conceded the point without argument. “ Come to 
think it over, Jim, maybe you’re right,” he said naively. 
“ That ain’t any reason though for them Summers crowd 
acting like they done. Cattle-dealing’s a gamble, ain’t it? 
Like everything else. It’s one man against another, with 


TIMBER WOLVES 


3i 


the odds even. I ain’t no rook, but I got my living to make, 
ain’t I?” 

“ Of course ! ” said the driver sarcastically. “ And a 
did good fat old living it is, too. Eighteen stone of it, if 
there’s an ounce ! ” 

Salter chuckled. The reference to his adiposity disturbed 
him not at all. At sound of his merriment the coach driver 
snorted belligerently. 

Heritage ventured a question. “ What was the matter 
with the cows then ? They were fat, weren’t they ? ” 

The stout man kindly explained. “ It’s this way, you see. 
Them beasts were wanted for beef. As I said, two out of 
the three was in calf. You can’t always tell like that, you 
know. Especially when you buy them as forward stores and 
take the other fellow’s word for it that they’re empty. Well 
you know, you can’t eat that kind of meat. It ain’t healthy ; 
besides, it’s against the law to sell it. By gum ! I must have 
got them old hulks mixed in the yards when I was drafting 
them out.” 

“ So then this man Summers will have a loss on the 
deal ? ” queried Heritage, rather disgusted. 

“Not him!” interjected the driver impatiently. “Trust 
one of his sort to keep his mouth shut where his pocket is 
concerned. What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve 
over, as the saying is. There won’t be much of that meat 
that ain’t sold and eaten by the end of the week.” 

It appeared that the stout cattle-dealer’s methods were 
open to suspicion. Heritage tried to reconcile this fact with 
the good-natured simplicity of the man, and found the task 
beyond him. Yet there was something about Salter that 
attracted his interest. It was impossible to mistake the 
friendly look in the little twinkling eyes that were turned 
upon him from time to time. Underlying the stout man’s 
carelessly confessed roguery there seemed evidence of not a 
little staunchness and sincerity. His passion for getting the 
better of his fellows in the open market was simply the 
passion of the dealer the world over. It argued nothing 
beyond the bare facts themselves. It was, after all, only a 
side trait of what Heritage guessed instinctively to be a 
remarkably human character. 

As he came afterwards to know, much of his summing-up 


32 


TIMBER WOLVES 


of Salter was correct. The dealer belonged to the type of 
man who, while knowing nothing of the injunction of St. 
Paul, could yet be all things to all men. Show him his 
honesty was suspect and he would go out of his way to 
justify the doubt. Let him find that he was implicitly 
trusted and he would have died rather than betray that 
trust. Such men are not uncommon in the outback. They 
appear a curious mixture of vice and virtue, whose lives are 
a seeming jumble of contradictory actions, doubtless because 
of some inherent obstinacy in their make-up that compels 
them to live only to the expectations of their fellows. 

On the arrival of the coach at Green Valley, Salter ex- 
tended a pudgy hand in farewell. 

“ I got a friend hereabouts that tuckers me when I’m along 
this way,” he said. “ Gets kind of annoyed if I put up at 
Hennessy’s hotel there. I don’t like them sort of places, 
anyhow. They never give me enough to eat. You going 
any further? ” 

“ To Timber Bend, wherever that may be,” answered 
Heritage. 

Salter gave a little grunt. “ You don’t say ! I live out 
that ways myself. You’ll have to ride out, unless a fifteen- 
mile walk is any good to you. Coach don’t go any further 
than this. You can hire a hack from the hotel and get your 
traps sent along by one of the teams. I’ll wait for you along 
the road in the morning, if you like. Be sort of company 
for each other, eh? And maybe you won’t be sorry to have 
some one to show you the road. It’s got more kinks in it 
than a snake’s backbone.” 

“ I’ll look out for you,” assented Heritage, shaking hands 
again heartily. He watched the stout man waddle off into 
the dusk, then turned towards the door of the hotel. The 
building sprawled on the edge of the roadway, an unsightly 
collection of worm-eaten timbers that seemed on the very 
verge of collapse. Heritage, however, was in no mood to be 
fastidious. Provided he obtained shelter for the night, he 
cared little for the surroundings. As he stood hesitating at 
the entrance to the musty hallway a man detached himself 
from the group under the veranda and came towards him. 

“ Evening, Mister. You want to stay the night here ? 
My name’s Tom Hennessy. I run this place. I seen you 
getting off the coach awhile back.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


33 

" I want some supper, a bed for the night, and early break- 
fast, if I can have it,” said Heritage. 

“ Sure, you can.” The landlord’s face crinkled in a greasy 
smile. “ Reckon you’ll be as comfortable here as in your 
own home. Lemme get your things inside and I’ll pass the 
word to the missus to get you a place at table. I don’t see 
your cases. I ain’t got a sample room, anyhow, but you can 
spread your stuff on the veranda in the morning. We don’t 
look for much trade hereabouts, Mister.” 

“ My name is Heritage,” volunteered the young man, 
shortly. He was not very much impressed by the looks of 
his host. “ And I’m not a commercial traveler, if that’s 
what you’re driving at.” 

“ You ain’t, hey ! ” Hennessy seemed a bit taken aback. 
“ Well, that’s your business, I reckon. We get all sorts 
along here. Land buying, maybe? You’ve come to the 
right spot. There’s some almighty good land around these 
parts, if you can only find it. You’ve jess nacherally struck 
it lucky coming to me. If any man can put you on to what 
you want it’s Tom Hennessy. Thinking of settling down 
here ? ” 

The man’s curiosity appeared to be insatiable. Heritage 
checked his growing annoyance with difficulty. He reflected 
that probably no offense was meant. Such an inquisition 
was, after all, only to be expected. It was simply another 
phase of the outback, where a man’s business may become 
his neighbor’s by right of painstaking research. Therefore 
he said with a smile : “ I’m afraid I can’t even claim to be a 
land buyer. I’m just having a look round the country. 
Where did you say my bedroom is? I’m pretty well tired 
out.” 

The landlord’s genial garrulity appeared to have suddenly 
deserted him. By the dim light of the lamp overhead 
Heritage could see that the man was eyeing him with every 
appearance of suspicion. He said nothing however; only 
grunted unintelligibly as he seized the young man’s portman- 
teau and led the way up the rickety staircase. 

Descending, some ten minutes later, Heritage surprised 
a little knot of men in the passage below. At sight of him 
their low voiced mutterings ceased abruptly and they drew 
aside to let him pass. He was conscious of their keen 
scrutiny as he entered the room where his meal was set. 


34 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Wisely he affected not to notice. No sooner was he seated 
than the group came together again and a sound of renewed 
whispering reached his ears. 

The food was abominable. With disgust he pushed aside 
the plateful of greasy meat and vegetables set before him by 
a tired-looking woman whom he judged to be the wife of the 
landlord, and tried to make a meal of bread and butter. 
Finally he gave up the attempt in despair and went outside 
to try and soothe his annoyance with a cigar before turning 
into bed. 

The night was perfect, with just enough of warmth in the 
clear air to hint at coming spring. Over the dimly seen 
edge of the far-off timber line a three-quarter moon was 
slowly rising, touching the hills with a silver sheen and 
studding the roadway with little pools of light. From some- 
where at hand came the musical purr of running water ; and, 
at intervals, the queer note of a mopoke sounded from the 
shadows. The night was murmurous with elfin harmony. 

Presently he became aware of approaching feet. The 
landlord and another man came directly to where he stood. 
Hennessy’s greeting contained all the elements of surprise. 

“ We been hunting all over the place to find you, Mister. 
It seems they’s been a little mistake. I’ll have to get you 
to move on and get lodging somewhere else. Your room 
was let by my missus to another man before you came. 
He’s kind of making a fuss about things. They ain’t no- 
where else I can put you up, either.” 

Something told Heritage at once that the man was de- 
liberately lying. Tired and disgruntled himself, he felt 
immediate resentment and took no trouble to hide the fact. 
“ You’d best find a place for me then,” he said shortly. 
“ You might know very well that it’s out of the question to 
expect me to find another lodging at this hour, even if I was 
disposed to try, which I am not. If a mistake occurred it 
was your own, not mine. I don’t intend to suffer by it.” 

“ You heard me,” said Hennessy belligerently. “ Maybe 
my house ain’t my own to do as I like with, eh ? ” 

“ In this case it certainly is not,” retorted Heritage. 
“ You appear to forget that hotels are for the convenience of 
the traveling public. I’ve booked my room and I mean to 
keep it.” 

“ The h — 11 you do ? ” This time it was the landlord’s 


TIMBER WOLVES 


35 


companion who answered. His voice was singularly coarse 
and aggressive. Heritage had an instant curiosity to view the 
speaker’s face, but in that he was disappointed, as the man 
hung back in the shadows. For a second or two there was a 
conversation in a rapid undertone, then the landlord spoke 
again. “ See here, Mister, you can’t come the bluff on me 
like that. I got the law on my side. If it comes to that I 
say you’ve got to quit.” 

The situation was becoming unpleasant. At another time 
it is probable that Heritage might have yielded to the per- 
sistency of the man; in his present mood the apparent in- 
justice of the request only served to bring out the stubborn- 
ness in his character. He fairly snapped his reply. 

“If you want to quote the law, why don’t you make sure 
that you understand what you are talking about. I’ve got 
you whipped in that argument before you start. The licens- 
ing laws operating here are substantially the same as in any 
other part of the Commonwealth. You’ve got to take me in 
whether you like it or not. I know it and you know it, for 
all you pretend ignorance. What’s the matter with me, 
anyhow? Frightened you won’t be paid or what is it? 
What’s all this mystery and boggling and whispering about. 
Out with it, man. You don’t think I’m green enough to 
swallow that yarn about your wife having already let my 
room, do you ? ” 

“ You’ll have to go,” repeated Hennessy doggedly. “ I 
ain’t here to argue one way or the other. When I says a 
thing, I means it.” 

“ And so do I,” said Heritage warmly. “ Well, please 
yourself. If you put me out now you’ll lose your license. 
Don’t make any mistake about that.” 

There followed another whispered consultation. Heritage 
straining his ears to hear what was being said, gathered 
enough to decide that only the dissuasion of the landlord 
prevented the other man from attempting violence. As he 
waited tensely for what might follow, they moved off to- 
wards the hotel. Hennessy called back over his shoulder as 
he went : “ You win this time, Mister. Make the most of it. 
It’ll be my call next.” 

“ Perhaps,” Heritage shot back into the gloom. His voice 
was confident, but in reality he was more than a little per- 
turbed at the trend of affairs. For the life of him he could 


36 


TIMBER WOLVES 


not understand what it was all about. His sudden unpopu- 
larity was quite incomprehensible. What had he done? 
What had he said? For several minutes he pondered the 
matter unavailingly. 

When at length he re-entered the hotel he found the place 
deserted except for the landlord and his wife, who were 
conversing in low tones across the bar counter. They eyed 
him furtively as he passed, but made no attempt to prevent 
his entry. The landlord’s former companion was not in 
sight. 

The bedroom door was without a fastening. Not alto- 
gether relishing the thought of possible intrusion, Heritage 
resorted to a contrivance of his schoolboy days. The room 
boasted a single chair, minus a seat, certainly, yet with a 
good serviceable frame. He pushed the back of the chair 
up under the door handle, jamming it hard down. Entry 
might be effected, but the noise of it would not fail to arouse 
him. When finally he went to bed it was to lay awake for 
some time reviewing the events of the day. Sleep came to 
his rescue tardily enough. 

As it proved, his precautions were unnecessary. The 
night passed undisturbed. If his door had been tried while 
he lay asleep, he knew nothing of it. Everything was just as 
he had placed it before retiring. After vain search for a 
bathroom or its equivalent, Heritage descended to his break- 
fast. A few men were already seated at table. Except to 
look up as he entered the room these took no further notice 
of him. He ate his meal in solitary silence. 

Immediately afterwards he hunted up the landlord with a 
view to hiring a horse on which to journey to Timber Bend. 
Rather to his surprise Hennessy raised no objection. When, 
however, he began to talk of prices Heritage understood that 
the landlord’s actions were largely governed by his cupidity. 
Even to Heritage the price asked seemed outrageously 
exorbitant. He said as much without more ado. 

“ Well, take it or leave it,” said Hennessy rudely. “ A 
quid a day ain’t anything to make a song about. Grass is 
scarce and feed ain’t hardly to be bought. This ain’t a 
charity home.” He added with a scarcely concealed sneer, 
“ Besides, I’m taking the risk, ain’t I ? Some horses never 
come home at all.” 

Heritage passed the insult by as being too paltry to bother 


TIMBER WOLVES 


37 


about. If he had to row with Hennessy he was determined 
to choose his own time and place, if that were possible. He 
said coolly enough: 

“ All right. We won’t argue about it. Here’s your 
money. Now, as I’m ready to start, perhaps you’ll get 
some one to saddle up and bring the horse round to the door. 
How am I to return the animal to you ? ” 

Hennessy snatched at the money greedily. “ Oh, that ? 
Why, when you done with him tie the reins to a stirrup and 
kick him in the ribs. He’ll come home fast enough. What 
about your traps ? ” 

“ I’m told they can follow me on one of the teams. I 
suppose I can rely on you seeing to that?” He hated to 
ask. any kind of a favor from the man but this was un- 
avoidable. 

The landlord grunted a sullen assent and went off to see 
about a horse. Heritage, meantime, took the precaution to 
see that nothing of a private nature was left amongst his 
belongings. When his horse came around he climbed into 
the saddle gingerly enough. He was stiff and sore from the 
coaching of the two previous days. With a curt nod to 
Hennessy he rode off to where he spied a stout figure, 
mounted on a stockily-built roan horse, waiting patiently in 
the shade of some bushes along the road ahead. Charley 
Salter greeted him with a genial smile. 

“Well, how did they treat you? You look kind of sore 
about something; so you do, by gum! I reckon Hennessy 
tried to take you down, eh ? He’s kind of got the idea that 
all strangers are meat for his hook. And he’s only one of a 
tough crowd.” 


CHAPTER III 


A S well as he could Heritage explained what had hap- 
pened on the preceding night. Salter listened in 
silence, his fat lips pursed and his eyes puckered per- 
plexedly. 

“ So they tried to run you out, did they? No, I don't 
know what they were driving at, any more than you do. 
Hadn’t been boozing up, had they? No? Well, it don’t 
matter much. Mostly bluff and wind, them crowd are. 
D — n Hennessy and his friends, anyway. How d’you like 
the look of the country hereabouts ? ” 

The question fitted well with the young man’s thoughts. 
He had been telling himself that the scenery was of a kind he 
had never before encountered. In spite of the monotony of 
the button-grass plains stretching on either side of the track, 
something in the prospect attracted him immensely. They 
were riding across a kind of plateau dotted with ragged 
clumps of stunted gum and tea-tree. Coastwards the plains 
opened out as far as the eye could reach, a seemingly inter- 
minable vista of wind-swept scrub and fast browning grasses, 
stretching onwards towards the horizon, unbroken save by 
an occasional belt of timber or the twisting line of shining 
brown that marked the course of some winter creek. Back 
of the plains rose a wide circle of precipitous hills, fringed 
and patched with blotches of ragged, wind-blown bush; 
split across here and there by rifts and gutters that showed 
in ugly purple lines against the lighter background of the 
dead timber. No sign of habitation anywhere; only the 
long rampart of the hills. From the direction of the sea 
came a faint but steady breeze which swayed the tops of 
the ripening button-grass to a ripple of color. From far 
away came the screaming of birds and the faint murmur of 
waves rolling on some hidden beach. 

Salter pointed towards the big timber that reared itself 
upon the slopes of the hills. “ Plenty of money to be made 
out of that, though you mightn’t think so. Thousands of 
acres of the finest hardwood in the world going to waste. A 

38 


TIMBER WOLVES 


39 


h — 11 of a government, ain’t it, to allow that sort of thing to 
go on? They say this little island owes more than her share 
to the Commonwealth debt, yet she’s got money enough 
hidden in her undeveloped resources to foot the whole bill 
twice over. It makes me kind of sick to estimate the d — n 
foolishness of some people.” 

“ Don’t your government foster the timber industry 
then ? ” asked Heritage. 

The stout cattle-dealer snorted angrily. “ They do not. 
Oh yes ! I know there’s pamphlets been issued by the score, 
and all the rest of it. But I tell you that what trade there 
is is due simply to private enterprise. The government 
don’t take any real interest in the matter at all. They talk 
and that’s all. The opportunities that have been wasted for 
lack of plain commonsense are mighty near unbelievable. 
The time is coming when they’re going to feel pretty sore 
with themselves. Here and there already folks are beginning 
to wake up to the fact that this country produces some of 
the finest timber in the world. The big timber firms know 
it and are grabbing all the country they can get their hands 
on.” 

Heritage’s mind reverted to what Frame had told him. 
Here were the same ideas, the same complaints. To Heri- 
tage it seemed astounding that any government should neg- 
lect to develop on right lines such an undeniable asset. If 
any industry had need to be run on national lines surely it 
was the timber industry. The forests were the heritage of 
the people, yet they reaped no benefit therefrom. Instead, 
the government looked on supinely whilst private enterprise 
in the shape of Capital, filled its pockets. 

“ What do you suggest then as a remedy ? ” he asked. 
“ What would you have the government do ? ” 

“ Do ? ” The stout man spat contemptuously. ff They'll 
never do anything — until it’s too late. But I know what 
I’d do, if it were left to me. I’d lay dozens of light tram- 
lines all through the heart of the northwest timber country, 
with a mill at the home end of each. I’d go a long way to- 
wards clearing the land by that means before I threw it open 
for selection. As things are now Crown purchase land is 
open for selection at from 5/- up to £1 per acre, according to 
the quality. The man that takes up a block with milling 
timber on it could easily pay for the clearing of the ground 


40 


TIMBER WOLVES 


by the sale of his timber, if he could get it to market. Since 
he can’t do that, except in rare instances, he sets to work and 
ringbarks thousands of pounds’ worth of timber, and logs 
up and burns as much more again. It ain’t wood he’s 
burning either; it’s his own life’s opportunity and that of 
his children that’s going up into the air in smoke. Think 
what it would mean if the government scattered a few saw- 
mills through the bush and connected each with a light tram. 
As I said before, some of the land would be pretty well 
cleared of heavy timber before it was thrown open for selec- 
tion. Instead of £i per acre they could get £2 per acre, or 
even more. It would mean just that amount more revenue 
to the country, and the man that took up the land would 
have just that much less big timber to break his heart over, 
and that much less clearing to do before he got a decent 
bottom of grass down for his cattle. As for the cost to the 
government I reckon the timber would pay for most of it.” 

“ Yes, but they’d have to borrow to start with,” said 
Heritage. “ At the same time I know that governments 
have run into debt for purposes less apparent, let alone 
praiseworthy. You’d think they would grasp at any 
legitimate means of revenue.” 

“ D’you know what I’ve seen, time and time again ? ” 
asked the stout man soberly. “ I’ve seen logs — figured 
blackwood logs — worth anything from £20 and upwards 
apiece, rolled into kilns and burned. And d — d glad the 
men was to get rid of them too. What sort of a policy is 
that, eh? Figured logs, by gum! There’s your government 
for you ! ” 

“ And private enterprise ? ” 

“ Grabbing all it can,” said Salter gloomily. “ As fast as 
they can get it too. This country ain’t America, but they’s 
something very like a timber trust operating on the mainland. 
They’s a little group of men that’s quietly gathering all the 
blackwood country into their hands. If you could get a 
man with pluck and money enough to fight these other 
parties to a finish, he’d make his fortune. But they’s no 
one game enough to try. Don’t I know it? I been looking 
for a man of that kind ever since I took a tumble to what 
was going on. I ain’t found him yet, and don’t believe I 
ever shall.” 

He pulled his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


4i 


His eye was hazy with reminiscence. After a while he 
resumed : “ I could take you to a place where they’s more 
marketable trees than they’s hairs to your face. I suppose 
there is between two and three hundred acres of it in a bed. 
The area is not a big one, but I can promise you that there 
ain’t one tree in twenty that ain’t fit for staves or milling. 
They’s a shoulder of high ground that leads almost right up 
to the head of the government line from Pie Valley. Yes, 
and there’s other beds of timber untouched as well as that 
— one that I know of. The timber folk know that it’s there, 
but they don’t know jess whereabouts. They ain’t troubling 
much about it at present. You see they reckon they ain’t 
any one with guts enough to touch it, anyhow. They’ll jess 
eat up the country they’re handling now and then these 
areas I speak of will jess nacherally drop into their mouths 
like ripe plums. If I had the backing I’d show them.” 

“You mean you’d go into the business yourself?” asked 
Heritage. “ Would it cost very much then to take up a 
timber lease or two and hold on till you could work them? 
There ought to be plenty of men willing to back you finan- 
cially.” 

“Think so?” said the stout man dryly. “Well, I don’t 
know that I can blame you. I did myself, at one time. As 
it is, outside of the ring I know of no one that would handle 
it as a gift. It ain’t so much a matter of the lease, you see. 
It’s a question of hanging on and fighting — fighting all the 
time. Maybe you could do it if you’d capital enough and 
were sure of a market. That’s where the timber wolves have 
got you cornered.” 

“ The timber wolves ? ” 

“ That’s my name for them — the combine people,” said 
Salter grimly. “ Plain timber wolves ; that’s what they are. 
Now I’ll give you some idea of the difficulty the outsider 
meets with when he thinks to take a hand in the game 
himself. When I found this little patch of timber I told you 
about, thinks I, I’ll get across to the mainland and find me 
some one with bowels enough to give it a fly. I got into 
touch right away with a fellow named Blake. Maybe you 
know the name. I makes an appointment over the telephone, 
and one bright, sunny morning I blows into his office in town 
to talk things over. Right inside his door is a counter. On 
it they’s a lot of samples of timber. One of ’em had a label 


42 


TIMBER WOLVES 


on it which says ‘ Tasmanian Oak.’ Thinks I, here’s some- 
thing I never heard of before; for I knew the wood wasn’t 
sheoak, whatever else it was. So I takes a squint at it right 
then. It’s stringy bark, that’s what it is. Yes, Mister, this 
here Tasmanian Oak, as it was called, ain’t more nor less 
than good old Tasmanian stringy bark. 

“ While I’m looking at it a fellow comes out of an inside 
room and looks me over, and says he, ‘ You’ve lost your way, 
Uncle. The Show Ground ’s out at Flemington.’ ‘ Let it 
stop there then,’ I says. 4 Are you Mr. Blake?’ ‘Have 
you any appointment ? ’ says he. I says I have. He looks 
down his nose then, and coughs, and fetches me into a room 
where they’s a fat, smooth-faced, oily looking gent sitting 
at a desk with a dead cigar sticking out of his face. He says 
this is Blake. 

“ I tells this new fellow * good morning,’ and he says the 
same to me. He hears what I’ve got to say and then he 
yawns and says he, ‘ Just whereabouts did you say this 
timber is located?’ ‘In Tasmania,’ says I. ‘You might 
as well say the Commonwealth of Australia,’ says Blake. 
‘Can’t you be more definite? What part of Tasmania — 
North, South, East or West? How far from a shipping 
port? What area? Got any samples with you? If you 
wish to do business with me, my man, you don’t need to be 
stupid ! ’ 

“ Inside of me I’m getting annoyed, but I don’t show it. 
Maybe he don’t mean any harm. ‘ If you take the matter 
up, of course I’ll be wanting a share in it,’ I tells him. ‘ Time 
enough to give you the exact location when they’s an agree- 
ment signed.’ ‘You don’t trust me?’ he says, getting a bit 
red in the face. ‘ You think you won’t get a fair deal, is 
that it? I’d have you to know that the name of Blake & 
Co. stands for absolute business integrity.’ 

“ I holds up the sample of Tasmanian ‘ Oak ’ that I’ve 
forgot to put back on the counter. ‘ What do you call 
this?’ I asts him. He looks at me for a minute as if he 
thinks I’m off my bean, and then he grunts * Can’t you read? 
It says Tasmanian Oak, don’t it?’ ‘Then it says what 
ain’t true,’ says I. ‘ This here is jess plain ordinary old 
stringy bark. You know it, and I know it. As a timber it’s 
second to none. So far as that goes, it takes almost an 
expert to tell it alongside of English Oak when it’s been 


TIMBER WOLVES 


43 


seasoned properly. That ain’t the point. It’s got a name 
of its own, and they’s no need to miscall it. You ast me jess 
now if I didn’t trust you. Well, here’s my answer, right in 
my hand. If you’ll deceive the public about a bit of wood 
you’ll think nothing of deceiving me over a bit of a verbal 
promise. It’s your turn to speak.’ 

“ ‘ It’s a trade name,’ says Blake, puffing out his cheeks 
like a bull-frog out of water. ‘ It sounds much better than 
to call it by its right name and who the devil’s any the worse 
over it, anyhow? There’s no better timber in Australia.’ 
4 That’s so,’ I says. ‘ It’s the nearest approach to the truth 
that I’ve heard you speak. All the same, you know mighty 
well that if you put it on the furniture market under its 
real name your sales would drop by half. Well, that would 
be your look-out. Educate folks to an understanding of 
the value of stringy bark and you’ll have no need to coax 
them to buy. I’ll admit they get their money’s worth even 
as it is, but that ain’t the point. Maybe the distinction is 
too fine for you to see. In the meantime, since it seems it’s 
the fashion to invent names for things, I’m taking a fancy to 
calling you ‘ Bunkum ’ instead of * Blake.’ 

“ My gracious, didn’t he get mad ! ‘ Get out of my office ! ’ 

says he. ‘ Wild horses couldn’t hold me in it,’ I says. And 
so out I goes, with him grinding his teeth and shouting he’ll 
queer me with every timber man in the city. And what’s 
more, he done it.” 

Heritage looked at him sympathetically. “You tried 
again then, did you ? ” 

“ I tried dozens, but I done no good. At the last I got on 
to a man named Sam Frame. They tell me he’s the big bug 
in the timber business.” 

The introduction of Frame’s name into the conversation 
caused Heritage no surprise. Somehow he had been expect- 
ing it to happen. “ I know Frame fairly intimately,” he 
remarked. 

Salter threw him a doubtful glance. “You do, eh? 
Then I’m bound to say you know a pretty rum character. 
Oh, yes ! I know they’s nothing actually against his record ; 
nothing visible as you might say. But for all that the 
man’s a wrong ’un. I feel it in my bones. They’s been 
things happen right here on the coast that were damnable. 
On the surface they wasn’t a trace of Frame showing, but 


44 


TIMBER WOLVES 


underneath they was always a little undercurrent of circum- 
stance that led you right up to his front door and left you 
there wondering. That man don’t mean to come into the 
open while he can get his dirty work done for him. When 
Frame shows up plainly in a deal (if he ever does) it’ll be 
because he can’t help himself, because things are going 
almighty badly against him and he’s got to cut in on the game 
himself. It’s gospel truth I’m telling you. One day, maybe, 
you’ll find out for yourself ! ” 

Heritage found his mind in momentary confusion. He 
wanted to take up the cudgels on Frame’s behalf, but some- 
how the right words were lacking. He took refuge in gener- 
alities. 

“ Possibly ! At the same time, it doesn’t do to base a 
conclusion on a half-truth. What I mean is that unless we 
quite understand the circumstances of a transaction we can 
hardly judge of its fairness or otherwise. Sam Frame is a 
sharp business man, but I hardly think he would descend to 
downright roguery.” 

“ I hope I ain’t offended you,” said the stout man slowly. 
“ I was forgetting that you was a friend of Frame, maybe. 
Well, that’s as may be. But I tell you it’s one thing to 
meet a man socially and quite another to run against him in 
a business deal. You’re meeting two different men really. 
What is your sharp business man, anyhow? Ain’t he a 
man that’s out to * do ’ his fellows any way he can, so long 
as he keeps the right side of the law? They’s things done 
every day in business that would make a Chinaman blush! 
They’s no moral distinction that I can see, between a pick- 
pocket and the big merchant that is known as being sharp. 
They both go through your clothes, but the methods is 
different. One robs you straight out, facing an open risk 
and not shirking the consequences ; the other takes you down 
under cover of an invoice ! The first man goes to gaol ; the 
second goes to church ! ” 

Remembering the stout man’s own apparent lack of busi- 
ness principle in the matter of the cows sold to Jerry 
Summers, Heritage could hardly restrain a smile. It seemed 
that Salter instantly divined his thoughts for he addressed 
Heritage again with almost disconcerting directness : 

“ You’re thinking about them old hulks of cows I jess sold 
to the Summers boys. That’s right enough ; but the things 


TIMBER WOLVES 


45 


ain’t the same. We’re both on the same level. It’s their 
wits against mine. The man I bought them cows from took 
me in over them. I ain’t going to lose by it. I can’t afford 
to lose by it. Them cows was a kind of a bad debt, so I 
passed it along to the next man who happened to be Summers. 
He thought he was getting a cheap bargain and took the risk 
of getting what he did get. But he done it with his eyes 
open. Remember that! Now, with men like Sam Frame 
it’s quite different. They don’t prey on their own kind, but 
on the man lower down. They don’t want any one else to 
live. They get the poor man and they get him good. And 
they do it when he ain’t looking.” 

“ But all business men are not like that,” said Heritage 
rather amazed at the bitterness of Salter’s tones. “ Such 
men as you quote are few and far between surely. One 
bad egg, you know, will discredit a whole custard. I’m 
afraid you’re a bit of a pessimist. The crook business man 
is in a decided minority.” 

“ It ain’t reasonable to doubt it, but I do,” said the stout 
man obstinately. “ I’ve had a fair experience and I ought 
to know a little of what I’m talking about. There was this 
man Frame, now.” 

“What did he do to you?” Heritage was not at all 
resentful. Instead, he was merely curious. “ What have 
you got your knife into Frame for? ” 

“ He done his best to suck my brains ; meaning to throw 
me away when he’d finished, like I was a bit of orange peel. 
He ast me out to his house and shook my hand like I was his 
long lost brother. I told him pretty much what I’d told the 
others. How I knew where they was a bed of good timber 
untouched, and jess where I wanted to come in. But I 
hung tight to the only real asset that I had — the exact 
location of my timber patch. I told him it was in The Bend 
country, but no more. And I had him interested too. 
When I left it was with his promise to send a man over to 
report. I was to meet him and pilot him around ; but first 
they was to be a bit of an agreement sent me safeguarding 
my own interests. I left that house walking on the tips of 
my toes like I was a ballet dancer that had got a straight tip 
for supper from the front stalls. Well, I come back home 
and I waited and waited, and they weren’t no word. So 
then I wrote. Oh yes, I got a reply all right. Frame had 


46 


TIMBER WOLVES 


sort of changed his mind. He thought they was nothing 
doing at present. And I kind of thought so too, when I’d 
finished reading his letter.” 

“ Nothing very wrong about a man changing his mind,” 
Heritage commented, as the stout man paused to wipe the 
perspiration from his cheeks. 

“ You don’t understand,” said Salter patiently. “ When 
I seen Frame he soft-sawdered me that much that I got to 
thinking he was the man I’d been looking for — the honest 
man with money to spare for a good speculation. I got to 
telling him things I hadn’t ought. How they was mighty 
little chance of getting timber away from the Bend unless he 
squared Garraway, the manager of the saw-mill on the Bat 
River, and the agents at Pie Valley; how they wouldn’t 
give a poor man a chance ; how they’d got together a bunch 
of the worst toughs this side of the water for mill hands and 
bushwhackers, men who would stop at nothing so long as 
they was drawing good pay. And Frame laughed and said 
he wasn’t afraid of any of them. He sort of reckoned, he 
said, that we could put it over on the best they could show up. 
And I believed him. Lord! how he must have laughed in 
his sleeve. Why, Frame runs Garraway. It’s Frame’s 
saw-mill. Garraway’s only manager. And the agents at 
the valley are all drawing commission from Frame him- 
self. I found all this out for myself long afterwards. 
Frame was jess sucking my fool brains for what they was 
worth.” 

For a while Heritage rode on in thoughtful silence. The 
stout cattle dealer’s indictment of Frame caused him no 
little uneasiness. He began to get an inkling of the real 
reason of the commission which the timber man had per- 
suaded him to undertake. Obviously Frame had suspected 
nothing of the existence of this little bed of alienable timber 
land, till Salter had told him. Obvious also was his un- 
willingness to share with the stout discoverer. Frame 
wanted it all for himself. Somehow he expected Heritage 
to discover the whereabouts of this timber and so enable 
him to jockey Salter aside. But by what means this was to 
be accomplished he could not then determine. Salter 
would naturally keep his information to himself. That he, 
a stranger in the land, should be expected to duplicate the 
discovery of this experienced bushman, familiar with the 


TIMBER WOLVES 


47 

country from his boyhood up, struck Heritage as being ab- 
surd. 

“ Is there a limit to the extent of timber country that 
can be leased to one person, or firm ? ” he asked presently. 

“ I ain’t sure, but I think they let you go to two thousand 
acres. They want quick royalties, see. The more the leases 
are divided up the more work will be done. That’s how it 
appears to me. With one man holding a very big area it 
would mean jess holding up revenue. That’s the theory of 
the thing. In practice you find all sorts of conditions.” 

“ That’s what I was going to suggest. If there is a limit 
to the area of any one lease how do you account for the big 
areas held by a man like Frame, say? ” 

“ There’s ways and ways. Did you never hear of ‘ dum- 
mying ’ ? These timber wolves go the limit in their own 
names and put up dummy agents to cover the rest. It’s il- 
legal, but what does that matter. They’s no one ever asts 
questions so long as the rental and royalties and so on are 
paid regularly. The whole system is rotten to the core. 
Here’s these rich firms making money and more money, and 
denying us little fellows the right to even get a fair price 
for the timber on our own ground. We got to take the 
price they offer us, or let the timber rot. They ought to be 
some way out of it. I’ve thought and thought till my head 
aches. I’d give ten years of my life to be able to get ahead 
of this crowd and hold up timber country till I got my own 
price for it. If there was a chance I’d even try to work it 
for myself.” 

Heritage thought he could well believe it. Timber was 
getting scarce, and it was odds that one holding a good 
lease must eventually get his own price, always supposing 
he could hold out long enough. Frame’s map of Timber 
Bend, which now reposed in an inside pocket of Heritage’s 
coat, represented the big timber man as holding an area 
short of a thousand acres. Yet Heritage remembered that 
Frame had told him he held practically all the timber coun- 
try there was, with the exception of that leased by Stewarts. 
What then meant the presence on Frame’s map of other 
names besides his own. They must either represent Crown 
purchase selections of agricultural lands of timber leasehold. 
If the former, Frame had forgotten to mention it; if the 
latter, the timber man must have resorted to the methods 


48 


TIMBER WOLVES 


described by Charley Salter. In short, Frame must have 
dummied. 

At a bend in the track the stout man suddenly pulled up 
his horse. 

“ I fetch off here to get to my place. If you keep right 
ahead as you’re going now, you can’t very well miss The 
Bend. Maybe you’ll stay at the ferry house? Old Will- 
iams, the ferryman, ain’t up to much, but I reckon you ain’t 
aiming to stop long in these parts. You could put up with 
roughing it for a day or two I reckon.” 

Heritage smiled back into the twinkling eyes of the other. 
“ I’ve been very glad to have your company and guidance. 
I don’t know how long I shall be staying at Timber Bend. 
It will probably be a week or two at least. By the way, Mr. 
Salter, do you know of any one living in these parts who 
owns to the name of Barkley? To be precise, Peter Philip 
Barkley ? ” 

The stout man pondered a minute. “ I can’t say that I 
do. They used to be a man called Barker that was prospect- 
ing around the head waters of the Bat River last spring. 
He wouldn’t be the man? No, I suppose not. His name, I 
remember, was Bill. What’s he like, this other person ? ” 

“ I’ve never seen him. I should say he was close on fifty 
years of age and that his talk smattered of the sea. He is 
married, and probably has a grown-up family. Beyond 
that I don’t care to speculate.” 

“ I don’t know the name,” said Salter. “ You sure he 
ain’t changed his title, eh? Many of them do, you know, 
when they come to these parts. There’s good reasons, no 
doubt.” 

It was a contingency that had so far escaped Heritage’s 
attention. He began to see that his task was not an easy 
one. 

“ By jove, I never thought of that. Well, all that I know 
at present is that Barkley came to Timber Bend many years 
ago. Possibly he moved on again. The man may even be 
dead.” 

Salter prepared to depart. He held out a stubby hand 
for the young man to shake. “ I don’t live more’n two or 
three miles from the ferry, Mr. Heritage. If you care to 
come across any time, my wife and daughter will be glad to 
see you — and no bothering about what your business might 


TIMBER WOLVES 


49 


be, either. You’ll find the mob at the ferry house a rum 
crowd. I doubt they’ll be to your liking. They may treat 
you right or they may not. From the way Hennessy went 
on, I should say not. Him and the ferry folk is hand and 
glove and they’s a telephone line between them. I’ll bet 
you’re expected. Well, if they turn you down, you go right 
ahead and hunt up Pete Diamond and tell him I sent you. 
Don’t forget to say that Charley Salter sent you.” His 
utterance became suddenly irrelevant. “ By gum ! you cer- 
tainly did hand it out to Jerry Summers that time. Charley 
Salter’s your friend. Whoof ! . . . jess like that, it 
sounded.” 

Heritage rode on slowly to the accompaniment of his own 
thoughts. Presently he began to look about him, the sap 
in his veins rising to the spell of the coastlands. He saw 
before him the entrance to a narrow valley. On one side 
rose the somber green of the timber line, a living wall of 
swiftly-changing shadow, rising stiffly to the gray summit 
of the hills ; on the other, there stretched the brown and 
purple of the plains, a sun-kissed vista of swelling radiance, 
dotted abruptly by the slow moving forms of grazing cattle 
and scored deliberately by far off, narrow gutters of scrub- 
lined swamp. Beyond showed faintly the yellow pinnacles 
of the rocks overlooking the wide reaches of the foreshore, 
and the white mist of spray sent up by the surf pounding on 
the ragged beaches below. 

So far the journey had been uneventful enough. Now, 
however, Heritage’s communings were interrupted in start- 
ling fashion. From the bush lining the side of the track 
there sounded suddenly the muffled report of a shotgun and 
the sharp patter of flying shot. Himself untouched, it was 
probable that the same immunity was not shared by his 
horse since the animal bolted forthwith. It was not until 
he had raced madly onwards for two or three hundred yards 
that Heritage was able to pull him up. Immediately he dis- 
mounted and tied the trembling animal to a sapling gum. 
Heritage was furious and not a little scared. At the same 
time, he was fully determined to investigate the occurrence. 
Rightly or wrongly he was possessed of a notion that the 
shot had been fired deliberately. 

In cooler judgment he might have hesitated to expose 
himself to further risk. He argued now, however, that it 


So 


TIMBER WOLVES 


was unlikely a second shot would be fired at him in like cir- 
cumstances to the first. For one thing, his return would be 
unexpected. It was possible that he might take the author 
of the outrage at a consequent disadvantage. He hoped 
grimly that it might be so. 

With the utmost caution Heritage proceeded to retrace 
his steps, till he found himself opposite the scene of his 
adventure. There was no appearance of any one on the 
road or in the bushes beyond. He sought for tracks in the 
sandy soil of the plain, but found none beyond his own. 
The marks of his own horse were plainly to be seen. He 
was able to determine the exact spot over which he had 
been riding at the time the shot was fired, for here the 
ground showed distinctly the deep impressions of his horse’s 
hoofs as the animal landed from its first frightened bound. 
Of anything else there was no sign. Everything was abso- 
lutely quiet. The bushes lining the track hung silent and 
motionless. 

Disappointed and immensely puzzled, Heritage was about 
to return to his horse when there came to his alert hearing 
a distant murmur of voices. The sound appeared to issue 
from a patch of scrub on the left of the roadway. With a 
moment’s hesitation Heritage stepped into the shadow of the 
bushes and began to worm his way softly through the under- 
growth, pausing now and then to readjust his bearings. 
He was almost certain now that he could distinguish the 
voices of a man and a woman. In his eagerness to view the 
speakers he forgot his new-found caution and stepped fairly 
on a stem of dead wood that lay in his path. The rotten 
branch snapped with a report like a pistol shot. Instan- 
taneously the sound of voices ceased. There followed a 
confused sound as of some heavy body forcing its way 
swiftly through the scrub ahead. Then, as if pointing a 
climax to this most amazing adventure, a woman’s voice be- 
gan to sing. Without more ado Heritage thrust himself 
forward and stumbled out clumsily enough on the edge of a 
tiny clearing. 

The singer was directly facing him, yet it appeared his 
advent was unnoticed, since she continued without the slight- 
est trace of embarrassment. Momentarily glancing beyond 
Heritage saw the bushes on the farther side quiver slightly 
as if something were passing through them. Then his eyes 


TIMBER WOLVES 


5i 

came back to the girl and he smiled involuntarily at the queer 
picture she presented to his conventional mind. 

She was seated on a log, her hands spread on either side 
of her and her head tilted backwards in the exercise of a 
pleasantly soft though not very musical voice. Her dress 
was of the plainest; her feet, resting carelessly on the rough 
timber, were encased in thick, nail-shod boots. On her 
head was a battered felt hat of patently masculine owner- 
ship. Over her shoulder was coiled the supple shining 
thong of a stockwhip, its short cane handle swaying to the 
movement of her body as she swayed herself from side to 
side to the lilt of her song. 

As Heritage moved towards her the girl's voice was 
checked abruptly and she slid from her seat and stood 
watching his approach. To the young man it seemed that 
her composure was a trifle too obvious, under the circum- 
stances, to be genuine. He could have sworn that her pre- 
vious attitude of apparent unconsciousness of his presence 
was an assumed one. The idea startled him somewhat. 

“ Please forgive this intrusion,” he said, “ but it was 
really not intended. I am looking for — for some one, and 
the sound of your singing guided me here. I hope I have 
not frightened you at all.” 

She was silent a minute, studying his face. When she 
answered it was with a correctness of speech and accent 
which surprised him. 

“ No, you did not frighten me. Fortunately my nerves 
are in good order. I am not very easily — frightened.” 

“ I believe that,” said Heritage, beginning to feel rather 
uncomfortable. His preconceived notions were tumbling 
about his ears. His imagination had always pictured the 
out-back girl as extraordinarily crude and timid, harsh of 
speech and abrupt almost to the point of rudeness. Heaven 
alone knew to what freakish literature or unreal experience 
he owed the conception. He told himself that this girl of 
the bush was both refined and sensible. 

Now that he was able to look at her closely Heritage 
could see that his first impression of extreme youth was 
mistaken. She was older than he had thought — perhaps 
twenty-five or thirty. In spite of her freckled skin and 
rather wide mouth, set with firm white teeth, her face was 
attractive. Her eyes were dark blue and intensely practical, 


52 


TIMBER WOLVES 


yet with more than a hint of humor underlying their seri- 
ousness. From beneath the wide brim of her hat showed 
little clusters of tawny hair. 

“ I believe that,” he repeated. “ I . . . you don’t hap- 
pen to have seen anybody else around here, I suppose? 
A ... a man with a . . . shot-gun, for instance?” 

“ Why do you ask that ? ” she said. 

Heritage felt his indignation returning. He answered 
with unnecessary vigor. Why? . . . because some one 
kindly tried his best to murder me as I rode past here a few 
minutes ago. A shot was fired at me from the bushes be- 
side the track. Fortunately the aim was bad, or perhaps I 
should not be here to complain about it. Naturally I desire 
an explanation, if I can get it.” 

He thought her eyes widened a little; otherwise her ex- 
pression did not change. 

“Fired at you? Are you certain? Isn’t that rather a 
serious charge to bring against any one? Why should any 
one fire at you ? ” 

Heritage shrugged his shoulders. “ It’s true, anyhow. 
I think you must know that it’s true. You couldn’t help 
hearing the noise of the shot.” He added impulsively, 
“ Even if you did not actually see it fired.” 

The girl made a little motion with her hands. It seemed 
to him that the suspicion of a smile flickered over her face. 

“Aren’t you taking a lot for granted? It’s too absurd 
to suppose that you wish to hold me responsible for what 
occurred. I assure you I have had nothing whatever to do 
with any attempt to shoot at any one. And, as you can see, 
I am quite alone — and unarmed.” 

Her frankness completely disarmed him. He began to 
blunder into an apology. “ I beg your pardon. Such a 
thought never entered my mind. If I overstated my case 
it was because I gave way to a natural irritation. It seemed 
incredible to me that what has happened could have escaped 
your notice. What would you advise me to do? ” 

She appeared to hesitate before answering. “ I wonder 
if you would listen if I gave it you. Somehow I don’t 
think you would. Yet I should mean it for the best.” 

Heritage smiled. “ I am sure of that. Supposing you 
try me. I never felt more in need of sound advice than I 
do at this moment.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


53 


• " 1 rm 11 then ' If 1 were in y° ur place 1 should do noth- 
ing. 1 11 go further than that. I should return to wherever 
it was I came from and forget that such a place as Timber 
Bend existed. Now I’ve startled you. Well, I’ve answered 
honestly. I can’t do more than that.” 

To say that Heritage was startled was putting it mildly. 
As a matter of actual fact he was wondering if he had heard 
aright, so utterly unexpected were the words. For several 
seconds he could only stare at the girl uncomprehendingly. 
Yet there was no doubting the seriousness of her eyes and 
the sober inflexion of her lowered tones. Amazingly it ap- 
peared that she was in deadly earnest. 

“ But why should I ? ” he cried, when at last his voice 
returned to him. “What have I to fear? What do you 
know of me that such advice should be necessary? Until a 
few minutes ago you never even heard of me ... is it not 
so? Yet now you seem to imply that I stand in danger 
of . . . what? Why shouldn’t I remain in this neighbor- 
hood? Is it any fault of mine that some one takes a pot 
shot at me? And, if it comes to that, why at me? What 
have I done ? ” 

She shook her head slowly. “ Still, the shot was fired, 
wasn’t it ? At least, you tell me so. There must have been 
some reason. Unless, of course, the whole thing was an 
accident.” 

“ It was certainly not that,” said Heritage curtly. He 
felt that the situation was fast becoming impossible, even 
farcical. Were it not that his commonsense reassured him, 
he might easily have supposed himself transported back- 
wards to the early twenties of the past century. 

The serious look in her eyes deepened. “ Isn’t that an 
additional argument then, to prove the soundness of my 
advice? After all, I can only offer a suggestion. It is for 
you to decide whether it was necessary or not. In any 
case, don’t you think you had better go from here?” 

Heritage flushed. “ Since I am obviously de trop, I sup- 
pose I had better. All the same, I intend searching those 
bushes at your back before I leave. I may be wrong, but 
the idea occurs that they may not be as innocent as they ap- 
pear. The gentleman — if it is a gentleman — who has 
proved himself so careless in the use of fire-arms, could 
hardly select a better place in which to shelter himself from 


54 


TIMBER WOLVES 


possible retaliation. If you will kindly move aside I should 
like to begin my search.” 

His words had an unlooked-for result. For the first 
time the composure of this strange girl seemed in danger of 
deserting her. Her face went white and her eyes widened 
like those of a terrified child. She put her hand on his 
arm. 

“ No. . . . I beg of you . . . don’t do that. You don’t 
know what you are doing. Oh, believe me I was in abso- 
lute earnest when I told you to go from here. I can’t add 
to what I’ve said. For your own sake you must not at- 
tempt to search those bushes. Can’t you understand ? ” 

She met his look steadily. With a shrug of the shoulders 
Heritage turned away. After all, what did it matter 
whether he carried out his threat or not. The morning was 
already far advanced and he had still some distance to go 
before his journey was ended. Under the circumstances it 
seemed hardly worth while wasting any further time over 
the incident. 

“ I can’t say that I do understand. To me the happening 
of the past half-hour is simply incomprehensible. I sup- 
pose, in a way, I ought to feel obliged to you for the interest 
on my behalf which your words seem to imply. I should 
feel much more satisfied however, if I knew what it was all 
about. Of course, I don’t intend to discontinue my visit 
to Timber Bend. I shall proceed precisely as if this morn- 
ing’s incident had not happened. But, since you insist, I 
shall deny myself the immediate prospect of discovering the 
identity of the gentleman with the gun. I make no promises 
regarding the future, however.” 

The girl gave a sigh of relief. There was a touch of 
sadness in her voice. “ I’m sorry you feel so much resent- 
ment. I suppose it is only natural, after all. I can under- 
stand that duty comes hardly sometimes. Still, you owe 
yourself a certain amount of consideration.” She hesitated 
a minute. “ Don’t you think you had better go now ? ” 

There seemed nothing else in decency that he could do. 
He raised his hat and started to move away, but halted 
again at a sudden thought. “ I don’t even know who you 
are. And what a boor you must think me. I’m really very 
much obliged to you. I don’t understand, but I know there 
must be something you fear for me. I’m sorry I can’t 


TIMBER WOLVES 55 

take your advice and return home. I’m going right ahead 
with the business that brought me here.” 

He turned away again, only to halt a second time. “ I 
don’t know your name?” 

He saw her teeth flash in a smile as she called back to 
him. “ But then I don’t know yours, do I ? That makes 
the honors even, don’t you think ? ” 

Finding no answer ready at hand with which to combat 
this essentially feminine logic, Heritage continued his way 
in baffled silence. His horse was standing quietly where he 
had tied it. He climbed into the saddle and sent the animal 
forward at a smart canter, anxious to make up for the time 
his adventure had cost him. 

In bewildered fashion his mind ran back over the events 
of the past two days, and could make nothing of them. 
These North-West Tasmanians were an extraordinary 
people, surely? They had the knack of taking a stranger 
absolutely by surprise. There was, for example, the hur- 
ried appearance upon the scene of Salter, the stout cattle 
dealer. Then the swift antagonism of Hennessy, the hotel 
keeper at Green Valley; an occurrence which apparently 
owed itself to something beyond Heritage’s powers of eluci- 
dation, since he could make neither head nor tail of it. Fi- 
nally, the episode of the shooting, and his introduction to this 
most amazing girl of the clearing. 

He recalled the tone of her voice, the almost wistful look 
in her eyes. He went over their conversation almost word 
for word, seeking for the hidden meaning in what she had 
said, but found himself quickly at a stand-still. The only 
thing he was in any way sure of was that he had received 
no direct answer to any one of his questions. At this Heri- 
tage frowned a little. He tried to study out the meaning 
of it all, as one might study some abstruse problem. The 
net result was to entangle his understanding still further. 
From first to last this girl had kept him guessing. She had 
evaded his questions deliberately. For some reason she had 
chosen to pretend an ignorance of what had occurred. All 
she had done was to hint absurdly at some unknown danger 
which threatened him, a danger to be escaped only by flight. 
And she had said something about his duty coming hardly 
— whatever she might mean by that. For a moment Heri- 
tage was inclined to think that the girl had been playing 


56 


TIMBER WOLVES 


with him ; trying out his courage, as it might be. However, 
he dismissed the thought instantly. The girl’s face, fine 
and open and generous, precluded any such possibility. 
Her sincerity, her staunch womanliness, were unmistakable. 

It was now close to mid-day. The early part of the 
morning had been almost uncomfortably warm, but now a 
slight breeze sprung up from the direction of the coast, 
bringing comfort in its train. A couple of miles from the 
scene of the shooting, the track abruptly ran off the plains 
and dipped into a thickly timbered valley, where it widened 
to a broad, comfortable roadway. Seeing this, Heritage de- 
cided that he was within measureable distance of his jour- 
ney’s end. 

His surmise proved correct. Presently his ears caught 
the sound of running water, the timber fell away on either 
side of him to form an immense open space carpeted with 
silver grass and thinly-sprinkled rushes, and the gleam of 
the river beyond showed itself suddenly. There sprang into 
sight a confused jumble of outbuildings and yards, and the 
gray drab roofs of the ferry house. With a feeling of 
thankfulness Heritage dug his heels into the ribs of his 
horse and rode swiftly across the intervening space. 


CHAPTER IV 


T HE ferry buildings on the Bat River were made up 
of an unsightly, ramshackle collection of weather- 
board huts having roofs of paling and shingle, and 
chimneys of corrugated iron. The main building, which 
lay about two chains distant from the bank of the river, 
proved to be a long, weather-beaten structure whose worm- 
eaten timbers testified abundantly to the deteriorating in- 
fluence of time. The place was redolent of decay. Here 
and there portions of the outside walls had commenced to 
bulge outwards and had been hurriedly propped with lengths 
of timber; palings had fallen from the roofs and been re- 
placed by flattened-out kerosene tins, now black with rust. 
A wide veranda, propped by tottering posts, ran the full 
length of the building. The floor was of tamped clay. 
Here and there the windows boasted whole panes of glass, 
but for the most part the apertures were covered by sheets 
of brown paper and lengths of rag and hessian. The whole 
building looked gloomy and uninviting in the extreme. 

The immediate surroundings were on a par with the 
ferry house itself. There was no garden ; nothing to relieve 
the bare squalor save only a narrow fringe of ragged honey- 
suckle bush marking one boundary of the untidy drying 
ground at the back. The ground between the out-houses 
was littered with rubbish. On a rail of the fence were 
spread a number of rotting sheep skins, the odor from 
which vied with the musty stench from the adjacent yards. 
A few horses grazed over the paddock beyond. Of any 
other stock there was no sign. 

At this stage of his journey Heritage was becoming fa- 
miliar with the architectural vagaries of the region he had 
invaded. He had indeed begun to wonder just how closely 
a dwelling might be typical of the occupants. So far he 
had found a remarkable uniformity in this respect. As he 
rode up he was greeted with a chorus of angry yelping 
from a number of nondescript curs tied to different posts of 
the building. Presently he became aware that the little 

57 


58 


TIMBER WOLVES 


group of men idling in front of the main entrance, was eye- 
ing his approach intently. He headed directly towards 
them, being minded to discover as soon as possible what 
manner of folk he would be dealing with. It struck him as 
ominous that not a man of them returned his greeting. De- 
termined to make the best of the situation, Heritage put a 
question briskly as he swung himself out of the saddle. 

“ Is this Timber Bend ? ” 

For a full minute there was no response. Then a stockily 
built man, with greasy black hair and pale, china-blue eyes, 
who had been sprawled on the grass, rose lazily to his feet 
and stretched himself with a loud yawn. His contortions 
at an end he shot back a single syllable. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Thanks,” said Heritage sarcastically. These people 
were beginning to get on his nerves in a way he had not 
thought possible. He glanced around at the other men. 
Their gaze had not shifted from his face. If anything, 
their hostile attitude had deepened. 

Heritage tied the reins to a stirrup, crossed these latter 
over the saddle and gave his mount a gentle cut with the 
switch he held in his hand. The animal set off instantly 
at a steady trot in the direction of its home, as Hennessy 
had assured him it would. Heritage would have liked to 
buy the beast a good feed of chaff and oats before turning 
it loose, but appearances indicated that he was going to have 
about all he could do to feed himself. The people of Tim- 
ber Bend might improve on a better acquaintance, but he 
very much doubted it. Relieved of the responsibility of his 
horse, and having thus burnt his boats behind him, as it 
were, Heritage turned again to the silent group about him, 
anxious to come to a quick understanding of what their 
surly welcome might mean. It appeared to him that once 
again he was meeting with the same incomprehensible air 
of mystery, the same sullen watchfulness, the same hardly 
veiled distrust that had seemed to dodge his footsteps since 
entering the Bend country. 

Heritage singled out the greasy-haired man and spoke 
directly at him. “ My name is Heritage. Tve come to 
stop at Timber Bend for a week or two. Just how long 
it will prove I don’t know. In the meantime, I naturally 
want to get to know folks and be as friendly as they’ll let 


TIMBER WOLVES 


59 


me. Now, what I’m asking myself, and you, is can I get 
board and lodging at the Ferry House here. I’m told the 
ferryman’s name is Williams. I’d like to have a word with 
him. Is he here ? ” 

This time the man answered without hesitation. His fur- 
tive looks had changed to a belligerent stare. “ No, he ain’t. 
He’s out round the pot poles on the coast, getting crays — 
if you want to know. You asts can you put up at the ferry. 
Well then, no you can’t. And if anybody wants to know 
why you can tell them because Gus Rebner said so. See 
what I mean ? ” 

“ I should be pretty dense if I didn’t,” said Heritage good- 
humoredly enough, considering the circumstances. “ You’re 
Gus Rebner, I suppose?” 

The man leered in assent. “ You’ve heard of me? If 
you haven’t, you soon will ! ” 

Heritage bit his lip. “ Oh, yes ; I’ve heard of you. One 
particular they evidently missed telling me. I didn’t know 
you were in charge here. I was told to ask for Mr. Will- 
iams. Is he no longer ferryman? Or perhaps you’re tak- 
ing it on yourself to answer for him? Is that it?” 

“ You can put it that way, Mister, if you like ” said Reb- 
ner, with a careless grunt. “ I told you already that 
Daddy Williams were down on the coast. When he’s away 
I carry on. And what I says, has to go. See ? ” 

The man’s harsh voice seemed to stir a chord of unpleas- 
ant memory in Heritage’s mind. He could have sworn to 
having met Rebner before; but under what circumstances 
he could not for the life of him remember. A little puz- 
zled as to his next move, he let his eyes rove abstractedly 
over the ground at his feet. Almost instantly he stiffened 
with a queer suspicion. On the grass where Rebner had 
been lying was a breech-loading gun. 

Of itself the fact signified nothing. Taken in conjunc- 
tion with the flash of low cunning which he surprised on 
Rebner’s face, it stood for quite a lot. Heritage guessed 
instinctively that he was now viewing both the man and the 
weapon concerned in the outrage of the morning. The fact 
was, of course, impossible of direct proof, but Heritage felt 
that such was not necessary. He was as well able to put 
two and two together and make four of them as any man. 
He had not the slightest shadow of doubt that it was Reb- 


6o 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ner who had fired the shot at him. For what purpose he 
had yet to discover. The whole thing was inexplicable. 

The thought that this greasy-looking scoundrel could 
claim acquaintance with the girl of the clearing, affected 
Heritage unpleasantly. It seemed impossible that such a 
girl should wish to shield Rebner from the consequences 
following what she must know to be a deliberate attempt 
to injure, if not kill, an innocent, unoffending stranger. 
Yet there was no denying that she had done so. Why? 
What was the relationship between these two? In heav- 
en’s name, what did it all mean? 

Finding no answer in his own mind Heritage attempted 
to read something from the face of the man before him. 
Here, too he failed. Rebner was not to be caught off his 
guard a second time. His unwholesome features expressed 
no other motion than a kind of sneering dislike. Heritage 
felt his own temper rising in response. 

“ Look here, supposing you tell me what the trouble is ? 
That’s a fair suggestion, isn’t it? I suppose even in this 
part of the world ordinary civility obtains as a general rule. 
Why cut me out of it? Until a few minutes ago you never 
set eyes on me. Now when I come with a simple request, 
asked as decently as I know how, you turn me down cold. 
Why? Do you treat all strangers like this? Or are you 
getting me in this thing all wrong? What’s the matter with 
me ? Think I’m going to bite some of you ? ” 

It was the same bewildered protest that he had launched 
at Hennessy and, later, to the girl in the clearing. As then, 
it brought forth the same unsatisfying, perplexing rejoinder. 

“ I ain’t arguing about it, Mister. You take my advice 
and get right back where you come from. The climate 
ain’t healthy for some folks hereabouts.” 

Rebner picked up his gun and moved off towards the 
house. Like sheep the other men followed. Heritage was 
left standing alone, feeling unutterably foolish and angered. 
He called defiantly after the retreating figures : 

“ Well, perhaps you don’t object to telling me where I 
can find a man called Pete Diamond, then ? ” 

The last man to vanish inside the ferry house re-appeared 
suddenly. He came to the rail of the veranda and called 
hurriedly in an uneasy voice: 

“ You’re some sort of a fool, ain’t you, Mister, shouting 


TIMBER WOLVES 


6 1 


that name at the top of your lungs? You want Pete Dia- 
mond? Well, maybe you know your own business best 
but I sort of think I’d leave Pete alone if I was you. He 
ain’t your sort.” 

“ I’ll risk that,” said Heritage grimly. He was thinking 
that his reception by Pete Diamond, whoever he might 
prove to be, could scarcely show less evidence of good-will 
than the greetings he had so far encountered. Besides, he 
had faith in Charley Salter’s assurance of friendship. The 
stout man had told him to ask for this man Diamond. 

“ Oh, all right.” The man made a little gesture with his 
hands as if washing them of any responsibility in the matter. 
“ Cross the river where the punt lays and keep right ahead 
along the track. You’ll find Pete camped alongside a spring 
about a quarter of a mile on. Now that it’s close up to 
feeding time, you’ll likely find him home. And, Mister, talk 
sort of gentle. If Pete says to get, you get. I’m just giving 
you a hint.” 

The fellow seemed well meaning enough. Probably he 
had not altogether approved of Rebner’s attitude and took 
this opportunity of showing it. Heritage nodded his thanks 
and set off in the direction indicated. A cattle drive led 
him down to the edge of the river, where the punt lay moored 
against the landing-stage. Here he stood, debating how he 
was to get to the other side of the water. Obviously he 
could not handle the punt himself, since he saw no means of 
returning it to its present position. 

By this time Heritage was beginning to feel uncomfortably 
hungry and thirsty. The latter disability was soon remedied, 
since he had the river at his feet. Regarding the other 
matter he was inclined to be pessimistic. He could only 
tighten his belt and trust to luck. It seemed absurd that he 
could find no one hospitable enough to offer him a meal, 
especially as he could pay for all he wanted just then in 
the way of food. And to the worry of his inner man was 
added the problem of how to transport himself across the 
river. 

He was ready to despair when his eye caught sight of an 
ingenious arrangement of ropes and pulleys fixed to the head 
of the ferry cable, and later a thick wire rope stretching 
across the five chains or so of intervening water. A small 
dingey bobbed astern of the punt itself. From the bow of 


62 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the dingey there ran a light line to the pulleys overhead. 
Stepping into the boat Heritage proceeded to investigate. 
He found that the line followed the cable across the river, 
and was apparently so rigged that the dingey could be rowed 
across and afterwards returned to its original position by the 
simple process of hauling on the line. It was evident the 
contrivance was only a calm water one. With anything 
of a sea on the pull of the water must inevitably wreck the 
whole affair. 

Heritage determined to profit by his discovery. He 
unshipped the oars of the dingey and cast off from the punt. 
A couple of good strokes sent him well free of the landing. 
To his relief he saw the line paying out steadily as he went. 
The sweep of the water took his little craft a trifle out of the 
straight line, but he managed to get across without any 
mishap, although at one time it appeared that he must foul 
a huge floating branch. He found on arrival that allowance 
had been made for the set of the current, the landing being 
built several yards seaward of the staging on the home bank. 
His hardest work came when he began to wind the dingey 
back to its original position. The line was threaded through 
a pulley to the drum of a windlass. By the time Heritage 
had finished winding on the handle the perspiration was 
pouring from him and his hands were chafed and sore. 
After a few minutes’ rest he set off again along a narrow 
track that shot off at right angles from the river. 

On either hand the tea-tree and honeysuckle scrub closed 
thickly around. In places there appeared little open glades 
whereon the white daintiness of thousands of coast daisies 
sprinkled the sward like snow fallen upon a mantle of green 
velvet. A few currant bushes already boasted a spray or 
two of flower ; and, on the crest of a knoll, Heritage paused 
a moment to admire the royal purple of the pig-face bloom. 
The wind freshened as he came clear of the bushes. The 
hammering of the sea upon the beaches close at hand, came 
to his ears in one long continuous roll of sound, relieved only 
by the faint screaming of the water fowl that flew scavenging 
along the sands. A sharp turn of the track brought Heritage 
suddenly in full view of a couple of tents set cunningly within 
a half circle of the scrub, away from the drive of the sea 
wind. A fire smoldered against a stump in the foreground. 


TIMBER WOLVES 63 

A pace or two to the side of this a man bent over a kangaroo 
dog which lay on its side in the grass. 

Heritage could have sworn that his approach had been 
unnoticed ; yet, on the instant it seemed, the man swung 
round to face him. At the same time the dog struggled to 
its feet with a low menacing growl. And so for a moment 
the three stood. 

In after days Heritage was to remember keenly this his 
first sight of Pete Diamond, to remember it with a manly 
emotion that brought unashamed tears to his eyes. Now, 
however, he was thinking that he had never seen a more 
perfect specimen of clean cut, magnificent strength than 
presented by this man. Pete Diamond was clothed simply in 
shirt and riding breeches, his arms bare to the elbows and 
his legs encased in well worn leather puttees. There was a 
hint of tremendous strength in the set of his limbs, a sugges- 
tion of almost cat-like agility in the poise of his body. His 
head was bare, showing a mass of thick black hair brushed 
carelessly back from a wide sun-tanned forehead. His 
nostrils were wide; his chin square set and deep, the chin 
of a born fighter. 

These things Heritage noted almost sub-consciously. His 
whole attention was drawn to the man’s eyes — wonderful 
eyes, jet black, keen, masterful. They held his own in a 
long stare of almost mesmeric intensity. He tried to break 
his gaze away, but could not. An absurd feeling of help- 
lessness took possession of him. He might have been a 
frightened child in the reproving presence of its teacher. 

Possibly something of Heritage’s distress showed itself 
on his face, for the other man’s almost fierce expression 
relaxed to one of careless unconcern. He turned his back 
deliberately and laid one big hand soothingly . on the clean, 
shining back of the still growling dog. The animal quietened 
instantly. In a queer hobbling fashion it thrust itself 
against the man’s knees, looking up at him with eager, 
watchful eyes. 

So far not a word had passed. It seem to Heritage now 
that the man was waiting for him to speak. Involuntarily 
his tongue loosened itself to ask a question which he knew 
somehow to be unnecessary. 

“ Are you Pete Diamond ? ” 


64 


TIMBER WOLVES 


The other man answered at once, though without turning. 
“ That’s my name.” He added to the dog, which had shown 
signs of renewed anger at the sound of Heritage’s voice, 
“ Quiet, Pup ! Quiet, old boy. They ain’t nobody going 
to hurt us.” 

The careless indifference of his tones made Heritage flush 
uncomfortably. Conscious of his own physical inferiority 
compared to the magnificent animal strength of this black- 
haired giant, he did not wonder at the almost contemptuous 
neglect of his presence now shown by both man and dog. 
They indeed could have nothing to fear from him. He spoke 
again, but less confidently. 

“ My name is Heritage. I’m sorry to bother you, but I 
was told to look you up if I found myself in difficulties. 
That is exactly the present position.” 

A second time he was forced to run the gauntlet of those 
piercing black eyes. 

“ Who told you that?” 

“ A man named Charley Salter. He said you were a 

friend of his. I rode with him from Green Valley this morn- 
• „ >> 

This time Pete Diamond did not turn away. He stepped 
forward with outstretched hand. 

“ Charley Salter, eh ? Why didn’t you say you was a 
friend of his at first? I reckon that’ll do me. How’d you 
come to know old Charley ? ” 

Vastly relieved Heritage grasped the huge fist of the other. 
“ We met yesterday down the coast. I was fortunate 
enough to render Mr. Salter a slight service, and in return 
he told me that if I had trouble with the people at the ferry 
I was to go to you and say he had sent me. I’m very glad 
I took his advice.” 

“ So Daddy Williams’ crowd gave you some sauce, did 
they? ” asked Pete, with the flicker of a smile. “ I can see 
they riled you somehow. Forget it. They ain’t no more 
than a lousey mob at any time. I’m going to have a snack 
in a minute or two. If you ain’t eat I’ll be glad of company. 
We can talk afterwards. I’ll jess go ahead fixing Pup’s 
feet. He’s kind of took the skin off of them running over 
burnt country. 

He turned to the kangaroo dog, forcing it gently down on 
its side in the grass. Heritage was now able to understand 


TIMBER WOLVES 


65 


the reason for the animal’s queer, hobbling movement. The 
pads of its feet were raw and bleeding. It whimpered 
gently as Pete wiped away the blood and dirt caked between 
its toes. More than once it tried to lick his hand. 

Pete bathed the feet with water from a tin on the fire. 
Then he greased the pads well with ointment and bound 
them lightly around with strips of sacking. Throughout the 
whole process he was as gentle and deft fingered as a girl. 
He kept up a continual murmur of soothing talk to the winc- 
ing animal. His love for the handsome beast was plain to 
see. No less evident was the dumb worship of the soft eyes 
that searched continually the face of the laboring man. 

“ There, I reckon if you ain’t more easy feeling, Pup, you 
ought to be.” Pete cleaned his hands and lifted a hissing 
billy from the fire. From one of the tents he brought a 
lump of cold boiled bacon, some bread, and a tin of jam. 
These he set on the ground at their feet and bade Heritage 
help himself. 

“ You look kind of peckish,” he said observantly. “ Well, 
go right ahead and fill up. It’s rough tucker maybe, but 
they’s plenty of it and it’s good. I reckon you won’t hurt 
if you never get worse.” 

Hurt? Notwithstanding a horror of picnic fare Heritage 
told himself that never in his life had he tasted anything more 
appetizing than this impromptu meal in the open. He ate 
like a horse, washing the food down with two cups of steam- 
ing hot tea from the billy. Afterwards he helped clean up 
and stow the things away in the box cupboard used for a 
safe. 

It was not till Pete had his pipe fairly going that he turned 
to Heritage with a friendly intimation that he was ready to 
renew their conversation. In the curiously abrupt manner 
which Heritage afterwards understood was typical of him, 
he demanded the name of his new acquaintance. 

“ Heritage. I thought I told you before.” 

“ I mean your Christian name,” said the big man. “ On 
the coast here it’s most generally Sam, and Tom, and Bill, 
as the case may be. We ain’t much use for family names 
except for signing receipts and such like. It’s a way we have 
to cut a man’s name down to bedrock, as the saying is.” 

“ I see,” said Heritage. “ Well, my other name is Jack.” 

“ Right ! They’s more than a few Jacks on the coast 


66 


TIMBER WOLVES 


already, but that ain’t any fault of yours. I kind of like the 
name, anyway. I had a little shaver of a brother was called 
Jack. He was coming on into a big fine man when a drop- 
ping limb hit him one day. I reckon I ain’t forgot how fond 
we was of each other. And now he’s nothing more than 
jess a memory. Ever notice how they’s a kind of value 
sticking to the name of any one you like real well? You 
think all them with that name must be good sorts. Of 
course it ain’t so. Only you like to think that ways at the 
start and give them the chance, as you might say.” 

He drew heavily at the pipe held between his strong teeth, 
sending out great clouds of smoke into the warm air. For a 
moment or two he kept silent. When next he spoke his 
voice had lost its softened note. 

“ You’ll notice I ain’t ast your business along the coast 
here. Me and Pup here thought at first that maybe you 
wasn’t friendly. They’s folks in these parts would see me 
stiff to-morrow and not bat an eye over it. I don’t say I 
was expecting a call from any of them, but I’ve learnt never 
to take chances. When you said you was from Charley 
Salter I knew you was all right. Maybe you’d like to talk? ” 

It was a direct invitation to speak openly. Recognizing 
it as such Heritage hastened to respond. As briefly as he 
could he sketched his trip down the coast after leaving the 
railway at Malewa. Pete Diamond listened in thoughtful 
silence. Not till Heritage touched on his meeting with the 
girl in the clearing did he interrupt. Then he looked up 
with a little chuckle. 

“ Reckon I could place that girl without any trouble. 
Did you notice if she was any kind of a looker ? ” 

“ She was not what I should call pretty, if that’s what you 
mean,” said Heritage, hesitating slightly. “At the same 
time, she was far from plain. The attractiveness of her 
face seemed to lie in its expression rather than the features 
themselves. Evidently she has a wonderful character. I 
should say she possesses an unusual amount of moral and 
physical courage. Her friendship would be something to 
cherish. If I had had a sister I should have liked her face 
to reflect just such characteristics as this girl’s face did. I 
wonder who she was ? ” 

Pete smiled, his whole face lighting up with an expression 
of such happiness that Heritage marveled. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


67 


“ She’s all you say,” said the big cattleman. I’ve known 
that ways about her for long enough, only I couldn’t put it 
into words like you done. She’s a grand girl is Jeannie, the 
best friend and the truest comrade a sinful man could wish 
to have. It’s always sort of puzzled me to know how Charley 
Salter had the luck to get a girl like Jean.” 

Heritage’s astonishment showed on his face. “ You don’t 
mean to say that was a daughter of Charley Salter ? ” 

" The only chick the Salters have got,” said Pete. “ Funny 
you never guessed who she was. Not that she’s got the 
looks of either of her parents, ’cepting her mother’s eyes 
maybe. Yes, that was Jean Salter right enough. They’s 
no girl on this coast can touch her when it comes to reckon- 
ing up the things that count in the making of a good woman.” 
He added, as a kind of afterthought, “ Unless it’s Peggy 
Adaire, perhaps.” 

The name passed unnoticed by Heritage. He was still 
intent on his first subject. 

“ Well, Miss Salter has a fine, open, generous face,” he 
said heartily. “ There is one thing though that still puzzles 
me a little. I hope you will not misunderstand the question 
I am going to ask. It is not intended, of course, to reflect 
on any one. I find myself wondering how it is that Miss 
Salter seems so different in every way from what you might 
expect, considering her father’s roughness of manner, and 
so on. Her refinement, the way she speaks and acts . . . 
It isn’t easy to reconcile the facts. I’m not offending you ? ” 

“ You ain’t offending nobody,” said Pete. “ Your ques- 
tion is natural enough. You see Jennie and Peg Adaire 
was sent to college in Hobart when they was small girls. 
They’s that much will go to the credit of Charley and Phil 
Adaire anyhow — that they weren’t content the kiddies 
should grow up ignorant as most of us hereabouts. They 
done their best to have their girls eddicated ; and, by glory, 
they spent the money well. I’ll leave it to you to say what 
schooling has made of Jean Salter, anyhow. Both the girls 
could hold their own against the best ever, but they won’t 
leave their daddies. You couldn’t pry them away with a 
cant-dog. They kind of thought they was needed at home, 
so back they come when the schooling was over. I mind 
driving along to Green Valley with old Charley to fetch them. 
That was more’n five years ago. I hadn’t been on this coast 


68 


TIMBER WOLVES 


then for over a month. When I first met those two girls 
Jean must have been about twenty and Peggy eighteen.” 

“ Peggy Adaire? That’s a pretty Irish name,” com- 
mented Heritage. “ Who exactly is she ? ” 

“ Why, I reckon it’s near enough to say she’s the daughter 
of old Phil Adaire,” said the cattleman, with a faint smile. 
“ It’s all I know, or want to know myself. If they’s a 
prettier girl anywhere about, all I can say is I ain’t met her. 
Peggy Adaire is a peach.” Of a sudden he became serious. 
“ You was telling me about meeting up with Jean. I’m 
sort of interested.” 

“ Of course,” said Heritage. He picked up the thread of 
his narrative and related events to the time of sighting Pete 
and his dog. At the conclusion he chanced to look directly 
at the cattleman and was surprised at the change in the man’s 
face. Pete’s lips were set in a straight line and his black eyes 
sparkled angrily. Meeting Heritage’s concerned gaze the 
big man broke into a short laugh. 

“ By the Lord, if Gus Rebner’s been worrying Jeannie I’ll 
beat him up in a way he won’t forget. It was him fired at 
you all right. What for, I dunno. You can bet that Jean 
does though. She knew he was planted back in them bushes 
getting ready to plug you in earnest if you started poking 
your nose in after him. That was why she kept you from 
going ahead as you wanted to. You can thank her that you 
wasn’t hurt as well as scared. I reckon that Gus is a snake. 
So’s his mate, Tom Login; I’ve warned them two more’n 
once what I’d do to them if they didn’t keep out of my 
business. They’ll try it once too often.” 

The whole man seemed suddenly transformed. The lines 
of his face had become hard and cruel, and the slow, good- 
natured tones of his voice had given place to a vigorous 
fierceness. The kangaroo dog, seeming to sense its master’s 
new mood, bared its teeth in a gurgling snarl. The sound 
appeared to recall Pete to himself, for he made instant effort 
to calm. 

“ Getting riled, am I? ” he said, as if speaking to himself. 
He reached out and tugged the dog’s ear playfully. “ And 
so were you, you old heathen, Pup. We’re a pair of bad- 
tempered good-for-nothings. It don’t seem as if I’ll ever 
break that temper of mine. I wouldn’t care so much, only 
I kind of promised Jeannie I’ll do my best. And when you 


TIMBER WOLVES 


69 


make a promise to her, Pup, it’s got to be kept. I reckon 
they ain’t anything she could ast me that I wouldn’t try to do.” 

Heritage sought to relieve an awkward silence by referring 
to his own grievance. 

“ What do you suppose is the reason for the unpleasant 
welcome they gave me at the Ferry, Mr. Diamond?” 

The prefix appeared to amuse the cattleman. He grinned 
with his former good humor. “ Meaning me, was you ? I 
ain’t no mister, and never was. Pete too much of a mouth- 
ful for you? ” 

“ Well then, Pete,” laughed Heritage. 

“ That’s better. What else has a man got a name for if 
it ain’t to be called by. Now about your question. I ain’t 
sure why Rebner acted as he did, but I got a good guess. 
It’s likely he took you for a revenue policeman. You ain’t 
that, anyway. Jess exactly what are you?” 

“ I’m sometimes puzzled to know myself,” said Heritage 
truthfully. “ I’m supposed to be a lawyer, but it doesn’t 
necessarily follow that I am one. As a matter of fact, I 
begin to have a suspicion that the law was the last thing for 
which I was intended. I don’t like it, and I’m not ashamed 
to say so. For the present, I’ve come to Timber Bend to 
look for a man called Barkley. I suppose you don’t know 
the name ? ” 

“I don’t. So you’re a lawyer, Jack? I’m bound to say 
it’s a trade I ain’t got much time for, but no doubt they’s 
good and bad in it. Now about this Barkley person. 
What’s he done ? Been getting himself into trouble ? ” 

Heritage was disinclined to enter into particulars too fully. 
He contented himself with a vague disclaimer. “ Oh, no. 
It’s merely a business matter. All the same, it’s essential I 
should find the man if he’s above ground — and I think he is. 
In fact, I believe him to be somewhere on this coast. He 
won’t be easy to find. At first I thought it would be an easy 
matter, but now I know better. In rough country like this 
a man could bury himself for years.” 

“ If they was a reason why he should, it wouldn’t be a 
very hard thing for him to do,” said Pete drily. “ This 
coast is full of hide-outs, as they call them. What was 
Barkley’s full name, and how long since you seen him ? ” 

“ I never set eyes on him in my life,” explained Heritage. 
“ His full name is Peter Philip Barkley. Fifteen or twenty 


70 


TIMBER WOLVES 


years ago he left the neighborhood of Launceston and came 
down the coast here — we think to Timber Bend. I’ve got 
to make a start somewhere, so I came here first. I may pick 
up his tracks from some one who knew of him. He must 
have had friends somewhere.” 

Pete Diamond rose and stretched himself. “ Well, if 
they’s a man on this coast called Barkley, I never heard of 
him,” he declared. “ That don’t signify anything after all, 
of course. I keep myself to myself pretty well, and others 
do the same. We live in the present only. A man’s past 
is his own. Well, how ’re you thinking to make a start, eh? 
Going to settle down here a week or two ? ” 

“ I don’t see what else I can do,” said Heritage. “ After 
I’ve made a few inquiries I shall be in a better position to 
judge. In the meantime I’ve still to find board and lodging. 
By the way, you said Rebner might have taken me for a 
policeman. Why a policeman ? Has Rebner been expecting 
a visit from one? Do they often make the trip down here? ” 

It was the cattleman’s turn to be vague apparently. He 
seemed to avoid a direct answer. “ Why, you see they’s 
always the chance of a John dropping in on us on the hop 
like. It don’t signify one way or the other, of course. The 
police ain’t too well liked along the coast. It’s natural, I 
suppose.” 

“ In a region like this there are sure to be a few hard 
characters,” said Heritage reflectively. “ I remember that 
my partner, Colvin, told me that Timber Bend had a reputa- 
tion for sly-grog selling and skin running. What is skin 
running ? ” 

Had he been less preoccupied he might have caught the 
quick, almost suspicious glance the cattleman shot at him. 

“ Skin running? Why, yes, I can tell you what that is,” 
said Pete slowly. “ It’s getting skins out to market under 
the nose of the police. Kangaroo and Black Possums are 
protected most of the year. Last season only lasted a month, 
and they say they won’t be any open season at all this year. 
Skins aren’t worth taking now, anyway. It’s too late in the 
year. Still, they’s all the winter skins to get rid of yet. 
You see they’s a heavy penalty for trapping in close season. 
But there’s a fine price waiting for any skins that can be 
smuggled across to the mainland. They’s a small fortune 
in it. Some folks think it’s worth the risk.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


7 1 


“ I see. Well, I wonder if you would advise me about 
getting board and lodging. D’you think they would take me 
in at the Ferry House after all, if things were explained ? ” 

“ I wouldn’t risk it,” said Pete. “ If they think you got 
anything to do with the police, it’s going to take a mighty 
long time to show ’em otherwise. You owning up to being 
a lawyer ain’t going to help you there. They’s too much 
law about it. And the law and the police ain’t very far 
apart. Now I’m riding across to the Salters. If you care 
to go along, they’s a horse I can lend you. It’s more’n 
likely Mrs. Salter would be glad to board you awhile, 
’specially as you’re on the right side of old Charley. And 
Jeannie you’ve met. You’d be more comfortable there than 
at the Ferry, and you’d be right where you’d meet folks. 
What say?” 

“ If I didn’t accept your suggestion I should be tempting 
Providence,” said Heritage, pleasantly surprised at the 
extent of the big cattleman’s friendliness. “ It’s jolly kind 
of you, Pete, to go to so much trouble for a stranger like 
myself. If ever I can pay you back you must let me know.” 

Pete smiled. “ Forget it. You done Charley Salter a 
good turn, and I reckon his friends are mine — and Jeannie’s. 
You wait here with Pup a spell, till I hunt up the horses.” 

Left to himself Heritage found time to review matters 
with more of understanding than he had thought to a short 
time back. He hoped fervently that this was to prove the 
end of his unpleasant experience. So far as Gus Rebner was 
concerned he had little doubt that an explanation was all 
that was necessary to put relations between them on a 
friendly footing. He could not conceal from himself how- 
ever his instinctive dislike of the man. Any man capable of 
ambushing another in the way Rebner had done would bear a 
lot of watching, he told himself. 

From Rebner his thoughts came back to Pete Diamond, 
and he was surprised to discover how undecidedly his judg- 
ment baulked at the big cattleman. Pete was one of a type 
wholly strange to him. His singular personality puzzled 
Heritage badly. At one moment he felt attracted ; the next, 
repelled. He thought of the man’s evident love for the 
wounded dog, the woman-like tenderness with which he 
tended the animal, and his heart warmed towards him. 
Then came the recollection of Pete’s face as he told him of 


72 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Jean Salter and Rebner, and Heritage pursed his lips doubt- 
fully. There was, however, no denying the big fellow’s 
entire friendliness towards himself. For this, at any rate, 
he felt more than grateful. 

Of one thing Heritage was tolerably certain. Pete Dia- 
mond could be nothing by halves. With him would be no 
mean between loving and hating. A man of extremes, 
passionate, headstrong ; yet withal an intensely lovable 
character. Such a man held almost infinite capacity for 
good or evil. He could prove by turn a staunch, eager 
friend, and a keen, relentless, almost vindictive enemy. As 
the world met him, so he, rough hewn by circumstance and 
disdaining compromise, would give unreservedly of both 
the good and the evil that was in him. A man to fear, 
but a man capable of inspiring unswerving loyalty and 
affection. 

Heritage’s reflections were cut short by the return of Pete 
with the horses, a pair of rough-haired, stocky geldings, 
about sixteen hands, with long backs, high withers, and 
ugly fiddle heads. It appeared, however, that this was a 
case of handsome is as handsome does. 

“ Out of sisters by the one sire,” defended the cattleman, 
tumbling some riding gear out of the second tent. “ Jeannie 
named ’em Tick and Tack, but you can hardly tell t’other 
from which. They’ve got a pedigree that would make a 
dead Chinaman blush, but there ain’t a hoof on the coast 
can touch ’em for long distance traveling. They ain’t any 
better looking than a sick badger, but they’re all there when 
it comes to work. You can ride Tack.” 

“ Do I get a saddle to sit on ? ” asked Heritage, a bit 
anxiously. His riding experience had ended abruptly on his 
outgrowing the pony of his schoolboy days. He did not 
relish the idea of a bare-backed re-appearance. He doubted 
if he could stick on under such circumstances, anyhow. 
“ Have you got two saddles ? ” 

“ I’ve got three,” said Pete, see-sawing a strap through the 
buckle in an effort to tighten the girth. “ I never see such 
brutes of horses as these. When I go to put the saddle on 
they swell themselves out like a schoolboy at a party. Yes, 
I got three saddles. I got funny ideas of my own about 
horses. One of them is that if you can give a moke a saddle 


TIMBER WOLVES 


73 


of its own you ain’t going to lose by it in the end. One 
saddle doing duty for two horses ain’t good for the saddle 
or the mokes either. It’s like a man and his son wearing the 
same pair of boots turn about. What fits one back don’t 
fit another. A saddle fits to the shape of the horse’s back, 
and no two backs are alike. You can gall a horse by a 
clumsy seat all right, but more often it’s done by an ill-fitting 
saddle. Climb up and try the length of your stirrups. 
You’re right.” 

Before mounting his own horse the cattleman shifted Pup 
under cover of the tent fly, and put a big dish of water and a 
shinbone of beef within easy reach. 

“ No one will get to fossicking those tents while Pup’s 
there, lame and all as he is,” he remarked, as they rode away. 
“ I don’t have to chain him, even when he’s not sick. Train 
a dog right at the start, and he’ll stop where you set him till 
the cows come home. Chaining a dog is a damn cruel thing, 
anyway.” 

Pete led the way over the sandhills till they struck the 
beach. This they followed to the mouth of the river. 
Remembering his difficulty in crossing at the ferry, Heritage 
began to wonder how it was proposed to transport the horses 
on the return passage. Pete put his mind at rest by reverting 
to the matter of his own accord. 

“ You crossed * The Bat ’ in Daddy Williams’ dingey, 
didn’t you say, Jack? Most generally I hop over on the 
bar when the tide’s out, as it is now. It ain’t more than 
three feet at the deepest, and they’s no two ways about this 
being the quickest crossing. See where the current hits 
the sea jess ahead of us there. They say the old Bat makes 
underground when she reaches here, but I dunno. Let your 
horse follow mine. He knows the way. Getting over ain’t 
as hard as you might think.” 

Heritage was glad to have the assurance. The swirling 
flood which separated them from the farther bank looked 
anything but inviting. A bare chain seawards the water 
foamed and boiled, leaping skywards in a drifting smoke of 
spray. The noise of the waves on the beaches below was 
almost deafening. Without hesitation Pete put his horse 
at the water. The animal began to pick its way composedly 
along the rock bottom of the bar. Heritage’s own mount 


74 


TIMBER WOLVES 


followed immediately. In a few seconds they were across 
and riding down the bank to the coast again. A mile up 
Pete turned inland and they climbed the knolls to the plain 
beyond. 

It was late in the afternoon when they came finally to 
Salters. The house was on a slight rise skirting the edge of 
the timber. As they drew close Heritage saw that it was 
built of weatherboard, with iron roofs and one brick chimney. 
A wire and picket fence enclosed three sides of a neat garden, 
the fourth boundary being marked by a narrow creek. At 
the back of the house were some outbuildings. On either 
side were cultivation paddocks. 

The cattleman rode his horse round to the stable with the 
easy assurance of the regular visitor. Suddenly he pursed 
his lips in a shrill whistle. It was answered almost immedi- 
ately from somewhere close at hand. As Heritage dropped 
stiffly to the ground a girl — his girl of the clearing, came 
round the side of a haystack. The sight of himself in 
company of Pete Diamond brought an expression of comical 
bewilderment to her face. Her lips parted as if to speak, but 
she checked the impulse. Instead she bowed slightly and 
turned to Pete, a question in her wide open eyes. The 
cattleman held both his hands out to the girl with a little 
chuckle of sly amusement. 

“ Glory to goodness, Jeannie, don’t look at me like that. 
It’s quite all right. Yes, I know all about this morning. 
They’s been something of a muddle all round. This is Jack 
Heritage. Your father knows something of him. It was 
the old man that sent him along to me. You never knew 
your Dad to size up a man wrong, did you? Jack here and 
me is pretty good friends already.” 

She accepted Pete’s assurance without question. Turning 
to Heritage she held out her hand. “ Mr. Heritage and I 
have the advantage of an informal acquaintance. We met 
this morning. Of course you have heard all about it, Pete? 
I wonder why my father has not mentioned your name, Mr. 
Heritage. Have you known him for long?” 

“ I met him yesterday, for the first time,” said Heritage, 
with a smile. “ So you see, Miss Salter, he is hardly likely 
to bother any one by mentioning my existence. I was able 
to do him a very slight service (at least, he persisted in 
regarding it as such) and in return he told me to find out 


TIMBER WOLVES 


75 


Pete if I met with any difficulty at all. As a matter of fact, 
until I took your father’s advice I met with little else. For a 
while I seemed to be the most unpopular person in Tasmania. 
You yourself know a little of my experience. It was due 
to mistaken identity, I believe. Pete has suggested that 
some one took me for a policeman.” 

Jean Salter answered the inquiry in his voice with a little 
shrug of her shoulders. “ And you’re not? It was too 
bad of everybody, wasn’t it ? Perhaps I owe you an apology, 
Mr. Heritage, for my share in the matter. However, no 
harm has come of our mistake fortunately, and explanations 
are such tiresome things, aren’t they? You must let us 
make amends as best we can.” 

On the face of it Heritage could hardly persist. If she 
chose to leave the matter as it stood he had no option save 
to stifle his curiosity as best he could. Slightly piqued 
though he was, he could not but help admire the straight-out 
manner in which she showed her disinclination to enter into 
particulars of the morning’s incident. 

“ I quite agree that explanations are decidedly tiresome. 
I am far too rejoiced at the present satisfactory state of 
affairs to worry over what is past. Life is full of unex- 
plained happenings. I suppose I ought not to shirk my 
share.” 

A little gleam of amusement lit her eye. Heritage guessed 
she was inwardly laughing at his discomfiture ; not unkindly, 
simply with her woman’s appreciation of his natural curi- 
osity. Almost at once, however, her face regained its seri- 
ousness. 

“ You’ll take tea with us, of course, Mr. Heritage? Pete 
always does when he comes to see us. Father will be glad 
to see you again. He loves to hear news of the outside 
world. Are you staying at the Ferry House ? ” 

Pete Diamond seemed suddenly to be reminded of one 
reason, at least, for his visit. 

“ Why, Jeannie, you see that was why I brought Jack 
along here. He couldn’t get in at the Ferry, and they ain’t 
nowhere else to go. I was thinking p’raps your mother 
could find him board and lodging till he finds how things 
are. It would be company for your father too.” 

“ I see,” said the girl, looking at Heritage gravely. “ Yes, 
I think perhaps it could be managed. Shall we go up to the 


76 


TIMBER WOLVES 


house and see what mother says. It must be nearly tea- 
time.” 

To Heritage’s relief Mrs. Salter, a gentle-faced, gray- 
haired woman, with quaint slow speech, approved of the 
suggestion at once. From his seat by the fire Charley Salter 
looked on with a friendly grin. 

“ ’Day, Pete. ’Day, Mr. Heritage. I kind of thought it 
wouldn’t be too long before I saw you again. So they froze 
you out at the Ferry, eh? I had a feeling it would be that 
way, but didn’t like to discourage you. Jess as well for you 
to find things out for yourself. Sit right down and fill your 
pipe. Well, Jean girl? What are you frowning at me like 
that for?” 

“ A nice father for a girl to have,” she said, shaking a 
finger at him accusingly. “ Here we are, mother and I, 
simply dying for news of any sort, and not a word do you 
tell us. So you and Mr. Heritage came along together on 
the coach to Green Valley. You never breathed a word 
about it. Did he, mother? I call it mean.” 

“ Well, now — no more I did,” confessed the stout man, 
guiltily. “ Must have forgot, I reckon. I was sort of full 
right up to the eyebrows with business. I should have told 
you later though. Yes, I certainly should.” He looked at 
his daughter appealingly as she moved towards the door. 
“ You ain’t going out again, Jeannie? Tea’s all set.” 

“ Just down to the stable with Pete to help him stable the 
horses,” said the girl, blowing him a kiss. “ You’re forgiven 
this time; eh, mother? We’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

“ Well, don’t be too long,” called the stout man. “ You 
know you promised the Adaires you’d go across after tea.” 

As the door closed after them Pete Diamond turned to 
the girl with a wonderful tenderness transforming the stern- 
ness of his face. 

“ It’s real good, seeing you again, Jeannie. I kind of 
count the days between visits. Happy ? ” 

She smiled at him a little wistfully. “ You big boy . . . 
of course I’m happy. Don’t I look it ? ” 

Pete surveyed her gravely in the fading light. “ I dunno. 
You ought to be. And yet they’s lines round your eyes 
that I don’t like to see there. You ain’t worrying? ” 

“ How can I help worrying a little ; you know what 
about,” said Jean Salter slowly. She put a hand on his arm, 


TIMBER WOLVES 


77 


“ Pete, why. can’t you make an end of this business? Is it 
worth the risk? As if anything really mattered — poverty, 
or sickness, or ... or even death, so long as what we have 
is come by cleanly and honestly. Besides, with you the risk 
is a double one. You know without me telling you that 
there are some people here would be only too glad to see your 
finish. If you knew how the whole thing is haunting me? 
. . . Not that I believe it to be actually wrong. I don’t. 
Only, you see, others take a different view.” 

The big cattleman patted her hand reassuringly. “ The 
others be ... be sugared. Ain’t a man to have a little 
excitement now and then. Now don’t you worry. I’m big 
enough to take care of myself. They couldn’t get anything 
on me if they tried.” 

“ And to-day . . . when Mr. Heritage came along.” 
Jean’s voice trembled a little. “ Pete, it will really happen 
like that one of these days. I thought . . . Rebner thought 
he was one of Saddler’s men.” 

“ Aye, I guessed that much,” said the cattleman more 
soberly. “ So it was Rebner fired that shot. You ain’t 
told me yet jess how the thing happened.” He fell silent a 
moment, looking at her. His next words came with such 
sharpness that Jean looked up at him with an expression of 
almost fear. 

“ You ain’t told me what Rebner was doing around there. 
He ain’t been troubling you, has he?” 

“ Pete . . . how your eyes snap. No, dear, he hasn’t 
been bothering me. Our being there together was an acci- 
dent. Gus Rebner is always civil to me. Only sometimes 
he looks at me in that cold snakey way of his. I don’t 
think he means any harm, really I don’t. Not yet, anyhow. 
Pete, I forbid you to quarrel with that man. He and Login 
are not like other men. There’s something purely animal 
about both of them that seems to show them capable of 
almost anything bad. It frightens me to think that they 
might turn against you.” 

Pete laughed scornfully. “ They ain’t going to hurt me. 
A pair of snakes them two; but even a snake ain’t hard to 
scotch when you see it in time. And they’s no man living 
going to take you from me, unless you say so. So you come 
on Rebner by accident this morning? ” 

“ Yes. I was riding back from our run where I’d been to 


78 


TIMBER WOLVES 


have a look round the cattle while Daddy was away. I came 
on Gus settling himself with his shot-gun among the bushes 
at the side of the track. I found afterwards that he’d tied 
his horse up on the lower road by Gray Lagoon, and cut 
through the scrub on foot. I guessed he was up to some 
mischief and questioned him. He told me a policeman was 
coming along from Hennessy’s, where he’d stayed overnight. 
Gus had seen him there, he said. He was going to try 
and scare the policeman home again, if he could. He didn’t 
mean to kill him, or even wound him, you understand. He 
just wanted to frighten him badly enough to send him back 
to where he came from. It was a ridiculous idea. I tried 
to make Gus see what a risk he was running, but he wouldn’t 
listen. And while I was arguing Mr. Heritage came along 
and Gus let fly at him. The horse bolted, I think, and Gus 
made back into the scrub swearing that he was going to 
shoot in earnest next time. I got him to promise he would 
wait till he found out who Mr. Heritage was ; because, you 
know, he doesn’t look a bit like a plain clothes policeman. 
Well, while we were talking we suddenly heard Mr. Heritage 
coming towards us through the bushes and Gus ran ahead 
and planted behind some logs. He said he’d fire to hit if 
Mr. Heritage found him there. I started singing ... I 
don’t know why ; there didn’t seem to be anything else to do.” 

Pete’s expression was one of mingled anger and admira- 
tion. He put his arm protectingly across the girl’s shoulders. 
“ They ain’t many girls would do what you done, Jeannie. 
They’s no braver girl anywhere than you. I’m real proud 
of you. All the same, they must be no more of it. I can’t 
have you taking risks of that sort. Give Rebner and Login 
a wide berth. They ain’t to be trusted. And don’t worry 
about me. Once I get through I’ll fix the two of them good 
and plenty, if they get to looking for trouble. They ain’t 
the bad men they think themselves. D’you know it wouldn’t 
have mattered after all if Jack Heritage had searched those 
bushes where Gus crawled in. He wouldn’t have found 
any one. Gus lit out right away. I know that, because 
Jack found him at the Ferry when he got there. Gus and 
the rest of them turned Jack down cold. That’s why he 
come on to me. I’m glad he did. I kind of like Jack. I 
think he’s a man.” 

The words were spoken simply, without affectation. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


79 


Mock modesty was no part of the big cattleman’s creed. 
Heritage’s estimate of him had been remarkably near the 
truth. Pete Diamond was a man of moods, yet staunchly 
faithful to the promptings of his generous heart. He loved 
fiercely, hated intolerantly. In neither case would he be 
ashamed to admit the fact. He could see nothing effeminate 
in the love of man for man. The story of David and Jona- 
than, of Damon and Pythias, would have appeared easy of 
understanding. They were “ mates ” The word explained 
itself. 

So too was it with his love for Jean Salter. He worshiped 
the girl with every fiber of his big handsome body. Beneath 
her influence the grossness in his nature was passing away, 
fading into the past almost as if it had never been. He 
himself was as yet unconscious of the change that was tak- 
ing place within him. He only knew that in some wonderful 
manner there had come to his starved, hungry affections the 
love of this girl so immeasurably beyond his worth; this 
lithe-bodied, tawny-haired, splendid creature whose clear 
eyes mirrored all that was beautiful and womanly and 
steadfastly courageous. 

“ So do I,” said Jean, after a little pause. “ I liked Mr. 
Heritage as soon as I saw him. He has plenty of pluck. 
He would have gone after Rebner quite as a matter of course. 
What is his real business in The Bend, Pete ? ” 

“ He’s come to find a man named Barkley,” said the 
cattleman. “ Jess what he wants him for I dunno. I never 
heard the name on this coast. Have you ? ” 

She shook her head. Truth to tell Heritage and his affairs 
had small place in her thoughts. Of a sudden she put her 
hand on Pete’s arm. 

“ Dear . . . won’t you give it up? Pete, I’m frightened. 
One day, when we’re least expecting it, they’ll send some 
one along. And besides, you know it isn’t worth it. An- 
other man ... but not you, Pete. They won’t give you a 
chance. They’re only waiting an excuse to bring the old 
trouble up against you. It’s the one thing I can’t understand 
about you. Well, enough for Login or Rebner perhaps, 
but not for my boy. You say you’ll do anything I ask you. 
Do this then. Pete, you must.” 

At the passionate pleading in her voice the cattleman 
stirred uneasily. He made a little helpless gesture with his 


8o 


TIMBER WOLVES 


big hands. “ Don’t you think I would, Jeannie, if I could? 
Little girl, I ain’t my own master in this. You don’t under- 
stand. It ain’t because I don’t want to. I’ve give my 
promise to see this lot through safely. After that I’m quit 
for good and all. But I can’t cut loose now. I jess can’t. 
I never went back on a man like that in all my life. It’s not 
you that would ast me to do it now.” 

The girl dropped her hand listlessly. “ No, I suppose not. 
And yet I wish I could. Sometimes I get the feeling that 
we’re living in a fool’s paradise; that what we hope will 
never be. Don’t look at me like that, dear. I’m not mean- 
ing that either of us can change. Our love is not that kind. 
Only there’s a kind of numb feeling at my heart that seems 
to warn me against hoping too much. Oh, Pete . . . such 
a beautiful hope ... to spend our lives together! It’s 
little enough to pray for surely.” 

Pete’s face began to work oddly. He caught the girl to 
him almost roughly, his hands stroking clumsily at the 
tawny curls on her bowed head. “ You ain’t well, Jeannie 
... to talk like that. They’s nothing can ever take you 
from me.” Of a sudden his voice broke hoarsely and he 
flung out his arm in passionate defiance. “ Why, not even 
God Almighty could do that ! ” 

“ Oh, hush . . . hush ! ” said the girl, in sudden affright. 
She put a hand to his lips. “ Pete, it’s wicked. There, I’ve 
frightened you with my fancies.” 

Night was coming down over the plains. Across the face 
of the waning sunset crept a huge bank of clouds, blotting 
the rose and sapphire of the evening sky with a mantle of 
purple mist. The wind had dropped suddenly and the timber 
line showed tall and unbending against the glowing back- 
ground of the western horizon. Over the distant ridge of 
hills stars sprang into twinkling light. 

Pete released the girl gently. “ Your Dad’s calling from 
the house. I reckon we best fix the horses and get along in.” 
He smiled whimsically. “ I can smell doughnuts for tea. 
I bet I could eat a bushel of them things ! A good deal of a 
cook is your mother ! ” 


CHAPTER V 


H ERITAGE found nothing to complain of in the wel- 
come accorded him by Charley Salter. The stout 
man betrayed a mingling of amusement and con- 
cern on hearing of his meeting with Jean Salter and the 
coolness of his reception at the Ferry. 

" They ain’t many could scare Jean,” he declared, with 
one of his fat chuckles. “ Jess where my girl gets her pluck 
from I dunno ! Me? I’m kind of timid. Always was. 
Maybe my heart and liver got mixed when I was little. I 
reckon they’s a good strain of her mother in Jean.” 

He mused a moment, then resumed in graver tones, “ That 
Gus will certainly take a lot of watching. He’s poison clean 
through to his boots. Seems like you was lucky to get off 
as light as you did, seeing Gus took you for a policeman. It 
was Hennessy that set that yarn going, I’ll be bound. I kind 
of wonder at Jean believing it, knowing Hennessy as she 
does.” 

“ Even so, surely Miss Salter would have no reason to 
fear a visit from the police,” said Heritage. “ It really 
looked that way to me at the time, all the same. I can see 
now that I was all wrong in thinking that.” 

Salter wriggled his bulk uneasily. “ I jess told you Jean 
ain’t frightened of any one, didn’t I?” he demanded. “I 
reckon that knowing what a cranky fool Gus is she was 
troubled they’d be blood shed if she didn’t butt in. Ain’t 
thinking she’s done anything wrong, are you ? ” 

“ Good Lord, no ! ” said Heritage hastily. “ I’m sure I’m 
heartily thankful to your daughter for the trouble she went 
to save my hide from a peppering. Well, it’s not likely 
that Rebner will make the same mistake again. He’ll be 
all right once he learns I haven’t come to interfere in any 
business of his.” 

Salter smiled dubiously. “ Maybe he will. Well, tea’s 
about ready. There’s Pete and Jean jess coming up from the 
stables. Maybe you’d like Mother to show you your bed- 
room before you eat.” 

81 


82 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Heritage found his sleeping quarters to consist of a tiny 
skillio off the end of the veranda at the back of the house. 
The furnishing was simple but scrupulously clean. He felt 
that with the arrival of his luggage he would be comfortable 
enough. 

Pete Diamond hailed him as he reentered the kitchen. 
“ Jean and me are going across to Adaire’s place after tea. 
If you ain’t too tired maybe you’d like to come along and get 
acquainted. Old Phil Adaire has been along this coast more 
years than I can remember. If they’s any man can set you 
finding your Barkley person, it’ll be old Phil. What say ? ” 

“ I’ll be glad to go with you, if I shan’t be in the way,” 
said Heritage. 

“You won’t be,” the cattleman assured him simply. “I 
wouldn’t have ast you else.” 

His bluntness of speech was at times apt to prove dis- 
concerting. Heritage, however, was quickly convinced that 
no offense was ever intended. Pete spake as he acted — 
plainly and to the point, with a kind of native honesty which 
lost its crudeness by reason of its evident sincerity. 

The moon was well free of the timber when they left for 
Adaire’s house. The night was calm and clear, the air 
faintly murmurous with the hum of myriad insect wings. 
Little by little the soft radiance of the moon crept over the 
slumbering plains, touching the out-cropping rocks with silver 
and spreading tiny pools of light between the bushes. To 
right and left long lines of tall deadwood gleamed white 
against the dense blackness of the living scrub beyond. 
From the paper-bark swamps came the reverberating boom 
of frogs. 

“ It ain’t always as peaceful looking as it is to-night,” said 
Pete, as they threaded their way through the bush. “ You 
should see the plains after a week or two of southwesterly 
weather. The ground under your feet is like a big sponge 
and the air’s cold enough to freeze the marrow in your spine. 
It ain’t any too safe in the big timber when they’s a wind on, 
and that’s most always in the winter and spring. They’s 
times it looks like it ain’t ever going to calm down again.” 

“ Well, I don’t ask for anything better than this,” com- 
mented Heritage, looking about him with keen delight. “ I 
don’t suppose I shall be here to experience the wet season. 
I hope to be back home long before that arrives. It will 


TIMBER WOLVES 


83 


depend how things go with the business in hand. I may be 
wrong, but IVe got a feeling that I shall run my man to 
earth without much difficulty.” 

It was on the tip of Jean Salter’s tongue to ask why he 
wanted to find this man Barkley. She refrained, however, 
from putting the thought into words. To appear in the 
slightest degree curious as to the business which brought 
Heritage from the mainland would have been in direct 
opposition to the simple etiquette to which her kindly nature 
held. Any exchange of confidence must come about natur- 
ally, or not at all. Especially in the present instance might 
the rule pertain. After the events of the morning, with 
her inability to explain much that must still be puzzling 
Heritage, she could hardly expect a recognition of her own 
curiosity. ' 

In any case the opportunity was soon lost. Pete Diamond 
exclaimed suddenly at a point of light which showed itself 
ahead of them. 

“ They’ve got the front room all lit up. Maybe they's 
been some company to tea. You don’t happen to know, do 
you, Jean? ” 

“ Pete is the most unsociable man on the coast, I do 
believe,” said the girl teasingly. “If a stranger comes 
within a mile of him, Mr. Heritage, he wants to run away.” 

“ I’m afraid I can’t admit that,” said Heritage, smiling. 
“ Am I not a living example of Pete’s social instincts ? But 
for him I should probably be starving at this very minute.” 

“ That’s all right,” said the cattleman, unconcernedly. 
“ I reckon they ain’t any one home but only the old man and 
Peggy after all. That’s the best of them French windows, as 
they calls them. They’re wide open and I can see right 
through into the room. Looks like old Phil was getting 
ready to make music. It ain’t often you catch him in the 
mood.” 

They were almost abreast of the fence by this time. Only 
a narrow strip of garden that nodded faintly in the scented 
shadows, separated them from the open windows beyond. 
There came suddenly the music of chords struck on a piano 
by a practiced hand. To Heritage the performer was in- 
visible. He could see only a corner of the lighted room. 
It struck him as remarkable that a piano was to be found 
in such a remote corner of the bush. 


84 


TIMBER WOLVES 


As he wondered, there came a moment of silence. Pete 
had reached out a hand to open the gate, but Jean Salter 
caught at his arm with a little exclamation. 

“ Down ! . . . quick ! ” she breathed, sinking in among the 
bushes around them. “ Oh, Pete . . . hurry before she 
sees us ! ” 

To Heritage the words and action were wholly incompre- 
hensible. He continued standing, till the cattleman caught 
him smartly under the joint of the knee with the edge of his 
big hand. As he collapsed in a hurry, the big fellow whis- 
pered fiercely: 

“ Down, can’t you ! Jean thinks she’s going to sing.” 

Who was going to sing? Remembering the unmelodious 
efforts of Jean Salter in the clearing that morning, Heritage 
felt more bewildered than ever. He was about to brave 
Pete’s anger by a question, when he chanced to look directly 
towards the lighted room in front of them. A girl had 
stepped suddenly into view. 

She was dressed all in white. Her face was in the shadow, 
but Heritage could see, even at that distance, the shining 
mass of her piled up hair. As he watched she came quietly 
up to the open window and stood there, a slim white form 
framed in gray shadows. It seemed that she was looking 
straight at Heritage. So conscious was he of her gaze that 
he felt his face grow hot at the thought that she must indeed 
see and misconstrue his presence there. As he nestled yet 
deeper into the bushes there came once more the notes of a 
piano in the opening bars of a well-known melody. Almost 
immediately the girl at the window began to sing. 

In trying afterwards to piece his sensations together Heri- 
tage could only wonder at the completeness of his sur- 
render to the glamour of that moment. The voice, the set- 
ting, the crooning notes of the accompaniment, gripped 
him completely. He crouched back in the shadow, hardly 
daring to breathe, staring incredulously at the faint disc 
of the singer’s up-turned face, the while he marveled at the 
purity and volume of the glorious voice that went throbbing 
into the night. Heritage knew the song well ; knew it and 
loved it. He had heard it a score of times on the concert 
platform ; sung, too, by some of the reputed songsters of the 
world. Its simple touching melody never failed to move 
him. Yet never before had he felt such exquisite response 


TIMBER WOLVES 


85 


within his own soul to the haunting pathos of the theme. 

Almost before he realized it the song was ended. Silence 
fell, save for the momentary cadence of the echoes awakened 
by the full, sustained notes of the climax. Jean Salter rose 
quietly to her feet. She called softly, yet with a little break 
in her voice that Heritage recognized and understood. 

“ Did you ever hear anything more glorious than that, Mr. 
Heritage? Goodness knows I’m not sentimental, but I 
always feel that I want to cry at the beauty of Peggy Adaire’s 
singing. What a God-given voice. And yet she seldom 
uses it. I don’t know why.” 

Softly as Jean had spoken the sound appeared to reach 
the ears of the girl standing motionless at the window. She 
came to the railing of the veranda and peered towards them. 
Her clear voice asked a question: 

“ Who is there?” 

Jean Salter broke into mischievous laughter. “ We 
caught you properly this time, Peggy. Oh, you darling! 
... if I had your voice I would conquer the world with it.” 

The slender white figure moved out of the shadows and 
came to meet them. “ So you were hiding there all the time 
I was singing? Jean, Jean . . . you bad girl! You know 
how shy I am of any audience. And you, too, Pete?” 

Heritage suddenly thrilled to a consciousness that she was 
looking at him. He in turn could not keep his eyes from her. 
She stood revealed by the moonlight, her face a perfect oval 
framed in the glistening coils of her hair. He could even see 
the white, even teeth behind her slightly parted lips. Only 
her eyes were veiled from his eager gaze by long, sweeping 
lashes. He found himself wondering what color her eyes 
might be. The thought took possession of him, so that he 
continued to stare at her mutely. Jean Salter came to his 
rescue. 

“ Peggy, this is Mr. Heritage. He is visiting Timber Bend 
on business and is staying with us. Mr. Heritage, this is 
Miss Adaire.” 

The girl bowed slightly in response to Heritage’s rather 
embarrassed greeting. Almost immediately she turned again 
to her friends. 

“ You are very subdued this evening, Pete. Has Jean 
been teasing you ? ” 

Pete smiled contentedly. “ She’s always teasing me ; but 


86 


TIMBER WOLVES 


it ain’t that made me quiet.” He shook his head deliberately. 
“ You’ll think I’m kind of soft, but it’s your singing that gets 
right home on me. Seems like they was something about it 
reminds me of when I was little. They’s a heartache in 
most every note you sing.” 

Heritage eyed the cattleman approvingly. This was an 
almost exact translation of his own feeling. What could it 
be, he wondered, that was responsible for the sad quality 
in this girl’s voice. Why her reluctance to sing when others 
were near? Was she unhappy? It seemed that even her 
answering smile was a trifle wistful. 

“ Thank you, Pete. I think I know what you mean by 
that.” She seemed to hesitate. “ Others have told me the 
same thing, if not quite so prettily. And yet ... I don’t 
exactly know why, but I love sad music. I am afraid I am 
in danger of growing morbid.” 

She linked her arm in Jean’s with a little laugh. “ Shall 
we go inside? Mr. Heritage, would you care to meet my 
father? You will find him quiet, and timid of strangers, but 
I am sure he will make an exception in your favor. Any 
friend of Pete and Jean is welcome to our home.” 

It was said very graciously yet the sweet voice sounded 
just a little hesitant. Heritage experienced a queer sensation 
of unrest. “ She is unhappy over something,” he told him- 
self, half angrily. “ Good God ! it’s not natural for a girl 
like that to be unhappy. And yet, confound it, what busi- 
ness is it of mine ? ” 

Old Adaire had left the piano and was sitting in an easy 
chair by the window. The light of the kerosene lamp 
hanging from the low ceiling shone feebly on his white hair 
and beard. Heritage was instantly impressed by the clean- 
cut, delicate refinement of the face turned towards him. 

“Jean and Pete, Daddy,” said Peggy Adaire softly, as 
they went past him into the room. “ And a friend of theirs. 
This is Mr. Heritage.” 

The old man held out one thin hand in welcome. “ Glad 
to make your acquaintance, Mr. Heritage. You will excuse 
me from rising, I hope. It is all my daughter’s fault. She 
insists that I rest as much as possible. She can be a dread- 
ful tyrant at times. Eh, Jean? ” 

Jean Salter shook her tawny curls emphatically. “ The 
idea. Peg a tyrant? And anyhow, it serves you right if 


TIMBER WOLVES 


87 


she is! You do such foolish things when you aren’t well. 
Oh, you men! What would you do without us? Daddy 
Adaire, I don’t think you’ve anything much to complain of. 
Do you, Mr. Heritage ? ” 

“ Indeed no ! ” answered the young man quickly. “ I 
fancy many of us would be glad to exchange places with Mr. 
Adaire. It would be no hardship to suffer so fair a tyrant 
as Miss Adaire.” 

Instantly he was furious with himself for having said it. 
He had need only to note the startled look the girl turned 
towards him to realize his mistake. Even on the face of 
the big cattleman he thought he surprised a flash of almost 
contemptuous wonderment. Too late Heritage understood 
that these people, so far removed from the artificialities of 
city life, failed not to estimate vapid compliment at its true 
worth. The earnestness of their lives would not tolerate 
the petty insincerities to which he was himself accustomed. 
A kind of shame took hold of him. 

At sight of the distress on his face Jean Salter softened 
her own expression immediately. She looked at him not 
unkindly. 

“ I wonder, Mr. Heritage, if you have noticed the fur- 
niture in this room ? It is all of figured blackwood. 
Mr. Adaire made it all himself. Isn’t it beautifully 
grained ? ” 

Adaire looked round with a smile. “ Every bit of it con- 
tained in one tree, too, Mr. Heritage. It was really the 
largest blackwood tree I have ever seen. I suppose it took 
me a couple of years to complete the suite. You see most 
of my time is taken up with the vegetable garden. Carpen- 
tering is a hobby I seldom find time to indulge.” 

Glad of a chance to hide his red face Heritage bent over 
a chair in hasty inspection. Appreciation of Adaire’s work- 
manship awoke in him an interest which served to put him 
more at ease. 

“This wood is very beautiful. Is it hard to work? It 
looks as if it might be.” 

“ The figure is,” said the old man. “ The plain wood 
though is fairly easy. It’s purely a matter of how the grain 
runs. You must work to it, not away from it. In some 
cases it’s not easy to determine which way the grain lies. 
Still, patience will accomplish most things, eh?” 


88 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Pete Diamond was eyeing the polished wood thought- 
fully. 

“Do you know there’s a fortune in this kind of thing?” 
he asked. “ The trouble seems to be that the timber trade 
is in the hands of a half-dozen or so big firms that won’t 
give an outsider a look in. Your father tried to get past 
them once, Jean, and they set out to claw him to pieces. 
Seems they’re kind of hogs, them timber folks. They want 
to grab everything for themselves.” 

Jean’s eyes were shining indignantly. “ Oh, they do, 
indeed. Only don’t call them hogs, Pete. Why slander a 
useful animal, even if it is a dirty one. Father’s name is 
the better one. He calls those people timber wolves. They 
are both ferocious and cowardly. A hog may be selfish, 
but once you yard him the trouble is over. But with men 
like Garraway, here on The Bend, and Sam Frame, over on 
the mainland, it’s a different matter. If you get in their 
way they want to tear you to pieces. They, and the rest of 
their kind, are just human wolves.” 

The vehemence with which the girl spoke quite startled 
Heritage. Remembering his relations with Frame he felt 
none too comfortable. Diffidently he sought for further 
enlightenment. 

“ But is there then a real reason why some of you local 
people cannot market timber for yourselves; financial con- 
siderations quite apart. I mean, it isn’t a question of in- 
fringement on others’ rights, is it? These people you speak 
of haven’t a monopoly in the trade, have they? ” 

“ Actually, they have,” said the girl. “ It’s the monopoly 
of might. From a moral point of view, of course they 
haven’t a leg to stand on. The forests belong to the people ; 
not to any one man or combination of men. You or I 
should have as much right to lease and market a timber area 
as Frame has. But do you think for a moment that we 
should be permitted to do so? Take Timber Bend, for in- 
stance. Frame would see to it that we never got our logs 
through to a market. The only outlet we have is the tram- 
line connecting us with the jetty at Sun Port. Who owns 
the shares in that tramline? Who controls it? Frame 
does. Our logs would simply rot on the skidways. I’m 
not guessing this, I know it. I’ve seen it done here already. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


89 


No, the attempt would be hopeless; unless you had plenty 
of capital behind you, and influence enough to scare a little 
decency into the timber ring/’ 

“ You seem to have studied the matter pretty thor- 
oughly,” observed Heritage. 

Jean shrugged her shoulders. “ I’ve heard father talk- 
ing about it. The matter is hardly worth bothering about, 
after all. In any case it is not fair to worry you with a 
recital of our woes.” 

Heritage disclaimed boredom. “ I may be more in- 
terested than you think.” 

He was on the point of making known his acquaintance 
with Frame, when Pete Diamond held up a hand for silence. 

“ They’s some one coming,” announced the big man, cas- 
ually. He listened a moment. “ It ain’t no stranger, either. 
Expecting any one, Peggy ? ” 

The girl had gone to the window, where she stood looking 
out into the moon-lit night. She called back over her shoul- 
der : 

“ Why, I do believe it’s Solium Joe.” She waited a sec- 
ond, then cried softly: “Is that you, Joe?” 

The sound of shuffling feet came nearer. A cracked 
voice came cheerfully out of the night. 

“ Why, yes ; what’s left of me, Miss Peggy. Seemed 
like I’d never get here. I’m a-getting old, that’s what it is. 
Ain’t as spry on my pins as I used to be. Kind of sore 
about my feet too. I see they’s company here. I reckon 
I’d better beat it for camp again.” 

“Don’t be silly, Joe,” said the girl reprovingly. “You 
know perfectly well that you and George are welcome here 
any time you care to come along. You’re not frightened of 
Pete or Jean, are you? Come inside.” She stood back to 
let him pass, then broke into a bubble of laughter. 

“Why, Joe, whatever have you been doing to yourself? 
Have you been in a snow storm? I declare the top of your 
head is all white and glistening. Your shirt is all covered 
with the stuff.” 

Solium Joe blinked at her solemnly. He was a little wiz- 
ened shrimp of a man, clad in blue jumper and baggy mole- 
skin trousers. A handkerchief was knotted loosely around 
his scraggy neck. He wore no hat, and his head was 


90 


TIMBER WOLVES 


sprinkled thickly with a whitish powder. A pair of faded 
blue eyes regarded the occupants of the room with a kind of 
mournful humor. 

“ Yes’m, I know I must be sort of queer looking, George 
done that. Yes, you can bet it was George done that ! ” 

“ In the name of Mike, what is it you got on your head ? ” 
asked Pete. “ Been trying to take an impression of your- 
self in plaster of Paris? Or have you been having another 
row with George Judney?” 

The little man wagged his head in acquiescence. “ Sort 
of. This here powder is Brown's Bon Ami Baking Powder, 
warranted to rise bread and scones quicker’n a landlord 
rises the rent when the rates go up. At least, it says that 
on the wrapper. When George got to heaving the stuff 
around, I was right in the way. I come along to sort of 
borrow some more to make bread for the morning. They 
ain’t any left at the mill store, and Slum Garraway’ll roar 
like a bull if they ain’t bread for the boys to-morrow. You 
got a spoonful of the stuff you could let me have, Miss 
Peggy?” 

“ Heaps, Joe,” said the girl encouragingly. “ What have 
you two old men been quarrelling about this time? Only 
that I know it’s mostly make-belief, I could be really cross 
with you.” 

Solium grinned feebly. It was easy to see the threat 
did not discourage him. “ Might have been a gal, I 
reckon.” 

Pete Diamond burst into a roar of laughter. “ A girl ? 
Well, of all the old idiots that ever walked, you and George 
take the bun! Who is she?” 

Solium grinned in ready sympathy. He even essayed a 
wink at the delighted cattleman. 

“Kind of polite, ain’t you, Pete? If you wasn’t so 
smaller than me, bust me if I wouldn’t up and spank you. 
George was over at the Ferry to-day fixing a windlass handle 
for Williams. The red-headed gal of Williams is making 
some tea and calls George to get a cup while it’s going. 
Now you know George ain’t no lady-killer, but he’d rise 
from his grave if you was to tap on his head-stone with a 
tea-pot. He’s the champion tea swiller on the coast. He’s 
that happy over the invite that he almost smiles. He drinks 
five pannicans of tea right hot off the fire, and gets home 


TIMBER WOLVES 91 

with pains in his inside. I’m there jess weighing flour for 
a batch of bread. 

“ Says George to me, ‘ Solium, I ain’t no lover of wim- 
men, but I do honestly believe that red-headed Venus at the 
Ferry could get me to eat out of her hand. She certainly 
don’t wash the vegetables in the tea water,’ he says, ‘You 
call yourself a cook,’ says George, ‘ why, you ain’t ac- 
quainted with the first rumors of the colandry art. When 
you can make a pot of tea like Sadie Williams can, your 
children can rise and call you blessed — but not before,’ he 
says. 

“ Says I, ‘ I ain’t got any children, and you know it. 
I’ve never married in my life and don’t want to be. As for 
that gal Williamses billy tea, why, stuff and nonesuch,’ I 
says. ‘ And finally ’ I says, ‘ I ain’t got any children.’ 

“ ‘ I was speaking in semaphores,’ says George. ‘ I know 
you ain’t got any children. If you had you’d have pizzened 
them ages ago feeding them swill water you miscall tea.’ 

“ I’m jess going to pour a mite of yeast into my dough 
pan when George says this here. It made me kind of an- 
noyed the way he was talking. I ups with the yeast and 
heaves it into his whiskers. Says I, ‘ When it comes to tea- 
making, I’m IT. Take that for slandering the dead chil- 
dren I never had ! ’ I says. George lets out a yelp like a 
staked puppy. He picks the tin of baking powder offen the 
shelf and empties the lot right over my head. ‘ And that,’ 
says he, ‘ is for comparing of yourself as a better cook than 
Sadie Williams. The one woman in the world,’ says 
George, ‘ that knows how to make tea so’s it would even 
tickle the inside of a celestial bean from another world.’ 
Then he climbs into his bunk and goes to sleep, and I come 
on here for more powder.” 

The comical expression on the little man’s dried up face 
awoke the risibility of his audience. In the laughter that 
followed Peggy Adaire slipped out into the kitchen, when 
she returned presently with a small parcel. 

“ Scones, Joe, and piece of soda cake. And of course a 
little baking powder. And don’t you and George quarrel 
any more. Not that you ever do quarrel in earnest. I be- 
lieve that what you just told us was made up. How is 
George’s rheumatism? Has he used the liniment I sent 
him?” 


92 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Solium appeared a trifle embarrassed by the question. 
The little twinkle of mischief in his faded eyes, however, 
belied the affected gravity of his voice. 

44 Why, you see, Miss Peggy, George don’t seem to take 
too kindly to the stuff, and that’s a fact. Appeared like 
they was something in it burnt his tongue. He jess took 
one mouthful and lit out for the creek. I reckon his rheu- 
matics weren’t as bad as he thought, maybe ! ” 

“You don’t mean to say he drank the liniment?” ex- 
claimed the girl, with a horrified expression. “ I sent word 
expressly that he was to rub himself with it. Why, he 
might have poisoned himself ! Was his mouth burnt very 
badly ? Oh, the poor fellow ! ” 

“ Now don’t you get worrying about George,” advised 
Solium soothingly. “ He’s drank that much tea that his 
inside is tanned harder than a trace chain. It was his own 
fault, anyhow. I told him myself that the stuff ain’t to 
drink. Maybe you don’t know jess how obstinate George 
can be.” 

44 ‘ I once cured a sick calf of the hives,’ says he. * If 
they’s anything about medicine that I don’t know, I’d be 
obliged if you’d mention it. Rheumatics is germs in the 
blood, ain’t they?’ says George. 4 Very well then. Will 
you tell me then how rubbing the outside of my legs is go- 
ing to benefit posterity,’ says he. 4 And no disrespect to the 
lady that sent the stuff along to me,’ says George. And 
with that he tilts the bottle to his mouth and let’s some of 
it trickle down his neck. Suffering James, you should have 
seen the look on his face when the stuff began to sting him ! 
He turns sort of yellow, like a poisoned finger, and turns 
over in his bunk with his eyes all tucked up into his fore- 
head. Says he to me, 4 You little pickle-berry-faced, bean- 
weevil of a man, ain’t you going to do something for me? 
Instead of standing there like you are, grinning like a 
trapped cat. How in Mike’s name was I to know the stuff 
had such a kick in it. I’m busting in halves,’ says poor old 
George. 4 Which way does the creek lie ? I can’t see for 
the smoke that’s coming out of my eyes. Remember me to 
Bill Hardie!’ he says.” 

“Joe . . . Joe! you’re just making the story up as you 
go along,” said Jean Salter severely. 44 Peggy child, how can 
you be so silly as to believe him. I declare you look quite 


TIMBER WOLVES 93 

miserable. Can’t you see that Solium’s only humbugging 
us.” 

“ Honest to goodness, George did drink a little of the 
stuff,” declared Solium earnestly. “ It ain’t hurt him 
though. Maybe I’ve been laying it on a bit thick, but if 
you could have heard George talking words at me like he 
done you’d have been tickled to death. He was nearly as 
amusing as a boil behind the ear. He talked about Bill 
Hardie for hours at a time.” 

The little man took a firmer hold of the parcel beneath 
his arm. “ Well, I reckon I’ll make tracks. They’s bread 
to bake before the morning. Solong, friends.” 

As his footsteps died away into the night. Adaire turned 
to Heritage with an amused gleam in his eyes. 

“ Don’t look so astounded, Mr. Heritage. When you 
come to know Solium as well as we do, you will find him one 
of the truest-hearted men on the coast. His one fault is a 
love of exaggeration ; yet he does it in such an entertaining 
way, that really I doubt if we would be satisfied to have him 
reform. He and his partner George Judney, are Peggy’s 
particular proteges. She mothers them scandalously. And 
in return, you see, they torment the life out of her.” 

“ Who are they ? ” asked Heritage. “ I mean, what do 
they do for a living?” 

“ Why, as to that, they are at present hut-keeping for 
Frame’s manager, Garraway,” said Adaire. “ Actually 
they are miners; fossickers would be the better word per- 
haps. Where they came from originally, I couldn’t tell 
you. Perhaps Pete can.” 

The cattleman shook his head. “ They were on this coast 
when I got here myself. They’re jess two ordinary old fos- 
sickers that now and then get tired roughing it, and come in 
and hut-keep for Garraway. That’s all I know about them. 
Except that they’re real fond of each other, and God help 
the man that makes the mistake of thinking he can hit them 
one at a time. They eat, sleep, and fight together.” 

“ You forgot to say that they also quarrel abominably,” 
supplemented Jean Salter, laughing. “ Of course, they 
mean nothing by that really. They do it to disguise their 
real affection for each other. Two such funny old men they 
are.” 

“ Well, I like Solium’s face,” declared Heritage. “ I 


94 


TIMBER WOLVES 


think he would prove a good friend to any one he took a 
liking to. ,, 

He was rewarded by a look from Peg Adaire. “ He 
would indeed,” said the girl. “ Don’t you remember, Jean, 
how Solium and George helped Jim Henry that time he had 
his legs crushed by a falling spar? Those two old men 
found him and carried him to their camp on the Sundown, 
and nursed him back to life as well as any doctor. They’d 
have done as much for a stranger, I believe. But in this 
case they owned to being specially careful. And why? be- 
cause Jim Henry once saved a collie pup of George Jud- 
ney’s when it had distemper.” 

“ There’s your out-back life for you,” said old Adaire. 
“ In the cities men rub shoulders for years without getting 
near to each others’ hearts. Town life cramps a man’s af- 
fections. His finer qualities are seldom made apparent be- 
cause the opportunity is lacking. It takes the out-back to 
force a man to live up to what he really is. The open 
spaces seem to bring out all that’s finest and best in human 
nature. I’m bound to add also that occasionally the reverse 
happens. It depends, I suppose, upon the influences at work. 
You see life is not so mentally strenuous with us. We find 
more time for moralizing one way and another, and so our 
actions are freer to follow the natural trend of our thoughts. 
You would hardly find a stauncher pair of friends anywhere 
than George Judney and Solium.” 

“Why Solium?” asked Heritage. “Nothing very sol- 
emn about his face. There was fun in every wrinkle of it.” 

Adaire laughed. “Just a nick-name; and spelt phoneti- 
cally, at that. Where he first acquired it I’m sure I 
couldn’t say. It don’t seem to fit, does it? Result of a joke, 
I suppose.” 

Pete Diamond and the two girls had disappeared into the 
kitchen. Presently, however, Peggy Adaire returned. To 
Heritage’s delight much of her former reserve had left 
her and she addressed him directly for almost the first 
time. 

“ Come and tell me how Melbourne is looking, Mr. Heri- 
tage. It is quite three years since I last saw it, and I begin 
to hanker for the flesh pots of civilization. See the dis- 
gusted expression on father’s face. Here he has been ex- 
tolling the virtues of the country life and to no purpose. 


TIMBER WOLVES 95 

He can’t endure the city. Neither can I. But there is no 
doubting the charm of our capital cities.” 

“You know them then? Yes, I suppose there is charm 
of a kind attaching to them. In my case it is not very ap- 
parent. I prefer the country. That is natural, of course. 
It is the fashion to affect a liking for conditions the exact 
opposite of those we encounter from necessity.” 

In the pause that ensued Heritage took the opportunity 
to covertly study the girl’s winsome face. He read therein 
the answer to the strange elation which had seemed to take 
possession of him the very first minute of their acquaint- 
ance. Peggy Adaire was beautiful. He told himself again 
and again that he had never before seen a girl so radiant of 
youth and womanly charm. The piled-up masses of her 
hair gleamed like new gold beneath the soft rays of the 
lamp. Her simple dress, cut low at the neck, exposed de- 
liciously the soft white beauty of her rounded throat. Her 
body, straight and supple as that of a birch, showed at every 
movement the eager, startled grace of a young fawn. She 
was exquisite beyond words. In spite of himself Heritage 
could not avoid mentally contrasting the delicate loveliness 
of this girl with the more open, sensuous beauty of Winifred 
Frame. 

“ I suppose it is too early to ask your impressions of 
Timber Bend,” said Adaire, breaking suddenly into the 
young man’s thoughts. 

Peggy looked at the old man reproachfully. ^The idea, 
father. Mr. Heritage has not been in the district twenty- 
four hours before we begin to bother him about impres- 
sions.” 

“ Oh, but I have them, dozens of them,” said Heritage 
eagerly. “ Ever since I set foot in Tasmania I have been 
besieged with impressions of all kinds. My trip up the 
coast was full of incident. This morning I was even mis- 
taken for a plain-clothes policeman. My welcome lacked 
enthusiasm as a consequence.” 

“ Oh, but how absurd,” said the girl. “ You don’t look 
a bit like a policeman.” 

“Exactly what Pete said,” agreed Heritage. “All the 
same, I can assure you I had an uncomfortable time of it 
for a while. It lay with Miss Salter and Pete to rescue me 
and bring me here.” 


96 


TIMBER WOLVES 


He related his adventures with a whimsical attention to 
detail. “ And really, I’m the most harmless person in the 
world,” he ended with a smile. “ I suppose the trouble 
came about because I failed to announce my rightful calling; 
which is that of a plain business man attempting to per- 
form a little amateur detective work.” 

“ Detective work ? But that does sound very like a police- 
man, after all.” 

He was taking mental note of her eyes — deep gray, be- 
neath long silky lashes. Eyes like gray stars, he told him- 
self happily. “ I’m the veriest amateur among amateurs,” 
he defended. “ No self-respecting policeman would waste 
a thought on me as a possible rival. You see, Miss Adaire, 
I am self-appointed to the task. There is a man I must 
find. I believe him to be somewhere at or near Timber 
Bend. And so I am come to look for him. I wonder if 
your father will be able to help me with any suggestions ? ” 

Peggy looked at him a little uncertainly. Again he 
thought to detect something of a wistfulness in her expres- 
sion. 

"If he can, I am sure he will be glad to. Do you know 
the name of this man you have come to find? ” 

“ It used to be Barkley. As a matter of fact, I’m expect- 
ing to find that it is now something else. No one seems to 
have heard of a man named Barkley on this end of the 
coast. Probably he has assumed some other name. But 
I should think it would be easy enough to recognize him. 
The full name was Peter Philip Barkley. You don’t know 
of any man with that name, do you ? ” 

“ I never heard the name before,” said Peggy promptly. 
Something like a look of relief had come into her face. 
“ Then, of course, there are lots of men here whom I have 
never seen. Father will be the one to tell you. He knows 
nearly everybody. Daddy, Mr. Heritage is asking news of 
a man named Barkley.” 

It seemed that the old man did not hear the question. He 
was lying back in his chair, one thin hand held to his eyes 
as if shielding them from the light of the lamp. The girl 
bent over him accusingly. “ I do believe you’re asleep. 
Are you, dear?” She pulled the hand gently from his 
face. "Why, Daddy, how tired you look? It’s a shame 


TIMBER WOLVES 


97 


to bother you. Mr. Heritage was wanting to know if you 
had ever heard of a man named Barkley? ” 

Adaire looked up at her with the ghost of a smile on his 
bearded lips. “ I was just dreaming, sweetheart. I think 
I am a little tired to-night. Mr. Heritage, I hope you will 
excuse me. Old folks, you know, sometimes indulge in 
retrospection. The less of future this world has to offer 
us, the more we cling to the past. You asked me a ques- 
tion ? ” 

Heritage looked commiseratingly at the half-averted face 
of the old man. Adaire’s head was sunk forward again on 
his breast, his two hands clasped before him. He seemed 
of a sudden to have become very old and tired-looking. 
The young man’s conscience smote him for having bothered 
the kindly old gentleman so soon with his affairs. 

“ I had no idea you were tired,” he said, apologetically. 
“ My question can very well wait, so far as that goes. It 
is not of any great consequence just at present. I wanted 
to know if you could tell me where to find a man named 
Peter Philip Barkley. He is, in fact, the reason for my trip 
to Timber Bend. I must find him out as soon as possible.” 

Adaire repeated the name slowly. He shook his head. 
“ I do not know him, Mr. Heritage. So many come and go 
along the coastlands that it is impossible to retain a memory 
of them all. Could you describe this man, do you think? 
Some trick of speech or manner, perhaps? You have his 
personal description, of course ? ” 

For almost the first time Heritage began to realize fully 
the meagerness of his information concerning the man he 
had come to find. What, after all, had he to go upon? 
Almost nothing, save the vague rumors of a decade back. 
For aught he knew Barkley was dead and buried. Yet even 
so his heirs might still be living. The magnitude of his 
task confronted him anew. 

“ I’m sorry to say I have not. Beyond the fact that 
Barkley comes of good stock, was well educated, and was 
the personal friend of a man named Moyes, I know nothing 
about him. If he is alive now he must be close to sixty 
years of age. There you have the sum total of my infor- 
mation.” 

From the anxious manner in which Peggy Adaire was 


98 


TIMBER WOLVES 


looking at her father, Heritage decided that his tiredness 
worried her. A sudden dread lest he was outstaying his 
welcome took hold of the young man. He began to wish 
that Pete and Jean might come to say it was time to re- 
turn to Salters. He could hear faintly the tones of the big 
cattleman’s voice in the room beyond. 

Adaire spoke again suddenly. “ Well, Mr. Heritage, if 
we can help you at any time we shall of course be pleased to 
do so. Is it very essential, by the way, that you should 
find this man you speak of ? ” 

Heritage had long since decided to maintain a strict re- 
serve concerning the details of his business at Timber Bend. 
Rightly or wrongly he had come to the conclusion that to 
be too explicit was to lay himself open to imposition. A 
considerable sum of money was involved in Captain Moyes’ 
bequest; undoubtedly there must be many men unscrupu- 
lous enough or reckless enough to impersonate Barkley, if 
the chance offered. The thought brought a quite uninten- 
tional gravity to the tone in which he replied to Adaire. 

" It is very essential. Barkley simply must be found. 
Otherwise . . . well, the matter goes back some years. I 
don’t fully understand it myself, except that some time in 
the past certain events happened which seem badly in need 
of straightening out. Even a tardy reparation is better than 
none at all.” 

Heritage uttered the last words almost unconsciously. 
His mind was busy with his and Colvin’s theory that Moyes’ 
bequest to his old friend might be regarded as evidence that 
the fault, if fault it was, that had parted two such close com- 
rades, lay with Moyes himself. 

Adaire did not reply. He seemed, indeed, to have lost 
all interest in the matter. Peggy glanced at the clock on the 
mantel ; then turned to Heritage with a smile. 

“ You will wonder what has become of Pete and Jean. 
As a matter of fact I coaxed them into the kitchen so that 
they could talk all they wanted to. Father calls me a 
match-maker, but I’m not really. It has always been an un- 
derstood thing that Pete and Jean will marry some day. 
I’m sure it does no one any harm to let them have a quiet 
chat together now and then. They don’t often see each 
other. I think I had better tell Pete the time. He has to 


TIMBER WOLVES 


99 

go back to his camp to-night, you see. After eleven it will 
be full tide on the bar and he won’t be able to cross.” 

Later, the girl came with them to the garden gate. For 
a second Heritage held her firm, cool hand in his own. 
Then with Jean between himself and Pete they started back 
to Salters. At the stables the cattleman stopped and held 
out his hand. 

“ You’ll be all right now, Jack. Maybe you’ll let me 
know if they’s any way I can help you find your man.” 

At the house there was no sign of Charley Salter or his 
wife. A candle was burning, however, in Heritage’s room, 
and he took it as evidence that the stout man had retired to 
rest. Heritage tumbled thankfully into his bed. With the 
extinction of the candle the tiny room was instantly flooded 
with moonlight. Through the open window came the sweet, 
earthy scent of the bush. A bird called from the dim shel- 
ter of the timber line. The note recalled to Heritage the 
glorious music of a girl’s voice singing across an enchanted 
vista of moon-swept, fragrant garden. 

“ Eyes like gray stars,” he whispered sleepily. And so 
dreaming passed onwards into a sound slumber. 


CHAPTER VI 


O N the next morning Heritage gave immediate atten- 
tion to his correspondence. He wrote briefly to 
Colvin, sketching the principal events which had so 
far attended his journey. A second letter he addressed to 
the manager of the Bank in Selby, asking advice of the ac- 
count which Colvin had arranged to open for him there. 
He began a third letter, this time to Winifred Frame, but 
for some reason could make no headway with it. In dis- 
gust he finally gave up the idea of writing for the present. 
He could do so later, when his impression of his new sur- 
roundings became more settled. 

To his delight, Jean Salter after dinner, offered to drive 
him to the Ferry House to see if his portmanteaus had ar- 
rived from Green Valley. “We can drive Dandy in the 
jinker,” said the girl. “ I have to make the trip, in any 
case. I want to leave some ointment there for Pete. IPs 
for Pup’s feet. Can you drive, Mr. Heritage’” 

“Not in this country,” said Heritage promptly. “Gra- 
cious me, haven’t you any roads at all ? How you folks man- 
age to keep a vehicle upright when crossing some of this 
plainland, I can’t imagine. My driving has been confined to 
nice, smoothly-made streets. I’m willing to have a shot at 
it now, if you insist; but don’t blame me if we get tipped 
out.” 

“ I think I prefer not to risk it,” said the girl, laughing. 
“ Broken limbs are too expensive in this country. Our 
nearest doctor lives a hundred miles away. Now you see 
how careful we need to be.” 

“You don’t need to hurry,” Mrs. Salter called after 
them, as they drove out of the yard. “ I’ll see to your fa- 
ther’s tea, if he wants to go out again.” 

Jean waved her whip in reply. As they went along she 
began to point out to Heritage the different landmarks. 

“ That gap in the timber to the right of us is where Gray 
Lagoon runs back into the hills. Over beyond is the ceme- 
tery. It’s only a tiny one, but not the less sacred for that. 

ioo 


TIMBER WOLVES 


IOI 


This end of the Lagoon is where Garraway once built a 
landing stage. He and Frame had an idea, I think, that 
they could put in a kind of mill race for floating timber to 
the trucking yard. Evidently it wasn’t feasible, since they 
gave the matter up. The head of Gray Lagoon comes right 
down to within a quarter of a mile of what they call the 
twenty-mile on the Government Tramway.” 

Heritage nodded his interest. “ I must get along and see 
it all, as soon as I can. Do you know, Miss Salter, this 
timber trade, with its immense possibilities, is beginning to 
fascinate me. It’s a wonderful idea, this pitting of your 
strength and courage against the big forests. It’s a man’s 
life. I know a little of the trade, but not half as much as I 
mean to learn while I’m right here on the spot. And you 
say most of the industry is in the hands of Frame and a 
few others ? ” 

Jean nodded, a faint color rising in her cheeks. “ Do 
you know what they call Sam Frame along this coast? 
‘ Damn ’ Frame. That’s the name they’ve given him — 
‘ Damn’ Frame. There, now I’ve shocked you. I posi- 
tively loathe that man, and all those others that play his 
game. Father says that Frame would rob a hen roost for 
the timber in the perches. That’s his joke, of course. All 
the same, some of the big timber men are nearly mean 
enough to do even that. They will not tolerate opposition 
of any kind. No scheme is too contemptible, no lie too 
abominable that it will not serve their end against a weaker 
rival. They drive the smaller man out of business any way 
they can. I’ve seen it happen not once or twice, but dozens 
of times, in this very place. They set a trap for father. 
But fat and slow though he may look, he knows too much 
for them. The bait went untouched. But there were oth- 
ers, Tas Perkins, for instance, who were not so lucky. 
Those hills in front of us are a spur of the Norfolk Ranges. 
Sometimes you can only see part of them, but to-day the 
whole range stands out with quite unusual clearness. They 
say there is a lot of unprospected country hidden away 
among the gorges over there.” 

As the trap rounded an arm of the timber the ranges 
appeared even more distinct. They rose abruptly out of 
the distance, immense and mysterious, the shadows crowd- 
ing upon the gray-blue depths of far away gully and ravine, 


102 


TIMBER WOLVES 


so that the stark summit of the range seemed outlined above 
a sea of floating purple mist. With each passing cloud a 
slow ripple of shadow went over the mountains, painting 
them in a riot of color that blended and merged upwards 
to meet the blue obscurity of the sun-lit sky. Heritage’s 
imagination took hold of him forthwith. 

“ What a place to explore. Or is it that distance indeed 
lends enchantment to the view? A home for all the bush- 
rangers and bold, bad robbers our youth delighted to read 
about. You were telling me something about Tas Perkins, 
were you not, Miss Salter ? ” 

“ Yes. There was a young fellow of that name came here 
from Hobart three or four years ago. I forget what 
brought him in the first instance. Anyway, he hadn’t been 
here very long before he saw the possibilities ahead of the 
timber trade, and made up his mind to go into the business 
right away. He thought he had as much right to do so as 
any one else. He was wrong, of course. It meant wresting 
away from Frame and one or two more, something which, 
if it couldn’t belong to them, must belong to no one. But 
Perkins didn’t know that.” 

“If he had been able to raise enough capital he would 
have been content simply to take up a lease and wait till he 
could transfer at a profit. Instead of that he decided to 
market for himself, even if he could only get out one log a 
week to the tramline. But first he had to find the timber. 

“ When Frame and the rest heard that Perkins was 
threading the bush after a timber lease, they simply smiled 
and said nothing. They thought he was wasting his time. 
So far as they knew there was no timber land unheld within 
miles of an outlet to the tram. As it happened, Perkins 
stumbled by accident on the very thing he was looking for. 
It was a patch of blackwood shut away by the hills and 
never so much as suspected by Frame’s men. Perkins 
made a map of the locality and went straight across to 
Melbourne to see Frame. He didn’t know what Frame 
was, you see. He thought he’d get a fair deal. 

“ Perkins’ only asset was his knowledge of where this 
blackwood was. Once he parted with this information he 
was no better than any other man. Frame set himself to 
worm the knowledge out of him. He questioned Perkins in 
such a friendly way that the boy quite lost his native cun- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


103 

ning. He told Frame what he wanted to know. The rest 
was easy for a man like Frame. 

“ Perkins’ idea in going to Frame was to get a promise 
that his timber going out to the mills would get a free run 
on the tramline. Frame not only promised him this, but he 
also offered to send one of his own experts over with Perk- 
ins to report on the timber and work out an estimate of the 
logging expense. Perkins thought Frame the whitest man 
he’d ever met. He wouldn’t say enough good about him. 
Well, what happened at the finish? I’ll tell you. 

“ Frame’s expert went back with Tas Perkins. They 
went through the block from end to end. Then Frame’s 
man wrote out his report and handed it to the lad to read. 
It said that no timber man who knew his business would 
touch that location at any price. It said that the timber on 
it was mostly pencil-wood, and that what wasn’t was flukey, 
cross-grained, and full of borer, and advised Perkins to go 
back home to Hobart and never give it another thought. 
And because Perkins was almost heart-broken with the 
disappointment, and honestly believed that Frame’s man 
was giving him a square deal, he did just that very thing. 
Oh, the shame of it ! ” 

The girl paused, choking; then resumed more quietly: 
“ That was what Frame was waiting for. He immediately 
took up a lease of the ground in the name of one of his own 
men. It proved to be absolutely the finest area of black- 
wood he has ever marketed. Do you wonder at my hating 
this man and his methods ? ” 

Heritage remained silent, chiefly because he had nothing 
to say in attempted palliation of Frame’s behavior. He 
thought to himself how Colvin, delving among his dry-as- 
dust old papers at the office, would have chuckled to hear his 
opinion of the big timber man so satisfyingly corroborated. 

“ Well, it certainly looks as if you had got Frame with the 
goods on him, as the Americans say,” he ventured at last. 
“ Did your father tell you, I wonder, that the Frames are 
acquaintances of mine. I have known them ever since I 
was a boy.” 

Jean flashed a quick look at him. “ Father never told us 
that. He talks a lot, but never really says much. He keeps 
most of what he knows to himself. Well, if you know Sam 
Frame, you know a bad man. I don’t say that to make you 


104 


TIMBER WOLVES 


feel uncomfortable. One day perhaps you will find out for 
yourself. Perhaps Frame will let you down more easily 
than he did the others.” 

“ Fve had no business dealings with Frame; nor am I 
likely to,” said Heritage soberly. “ So you see I may steer 
clear of his rough side/’ 

He had a sudden uncomfortable recollection of his prom- 
ise to scout for new areas for Frame. He began to wonder 
if it would not be safer to refuse point-blank to carry on 
with the matter. In his heart he did not doubt the truth of 
what he had just heard. The idea that he might find him- 
self in any way involved in the petty trickery of the timber 
merchant was instantly distasteful. 

The jinker suddenly shot free of the timber and Heritage 
found himself being driven across the same stretch of open 
grass-land which he had traversed the previous morning. 
As they drew near to the Ferry Jean gave an exclamation 
of dislike. 

“ Do you see that man standing by the shed ? When I 
look at him I always get a cold shiver down my spine. 
Peggy Adaire has the same feeling. She says he reminds 
her of a snake on the point of strilang.” 

Heritage saw a short, thick-set man watching their ap- 
proach from the door of the stables. He was too far away 
as yet to enable his face to be seen clearly, but something in 
his attitude seemed to chill Heritage. He felt, rather than 
saw, the long, hostile stare the man sent after them as they 
turned off to the house. 

“ Who is he ? ” asked Heritage. 

“ That’s Tom Login,” said the girl. “ He’s one of Garra- 
way’s section bosses, but sometimes he helps Williams on 
the ferry. He’s a friend of Gus Rebner. I think they are 
horrible men, both of them. I feel afraid of them some- 
times. Pete laughs at me. Of course he is frightened of no 
one. I wish I had a man’s strength.” 

Jean waited in the jinker while Heritage went to the door 
of the ferry house. In response to his knocking a stout, 
pleasant face girl, with freckled skin and an untidy mass of 
red hair made her appearance. 

“ I’ve called in to ask if there is any luggage here for 
me ? ” said the young man. “ My name is Heritage. The 


TIMBER WOLVES 


105 

man at the Green Valley hotel promised to send the lug- 
gage along by one of the teams.” 

He found the girl’s cool, unembarrassed stare a trifle dis- 
concerting. She seemed in no hurry to reply. Her eyes 
were fixed on the collar gracing his neck, and a little amused 
twist came to the corners of her wide, good-natured mouth. 
It suddenly struck him that this was the red-headed Venus 
responsible for George Judney’s recent orgy of tea drinking. 
He repeated his question a little impatiently. 

“ They’s a couple of portmanteys, if that’s what you 
mean,” said the girl, in a rich, throaty voice. “ They come 
on Garraway’s horse team last night.” She looked beyond 
him, and a smile came on her face. “ Why, if it ain’t Jean 
Salter that drove you along.” She raised her voice. 
“Ain’t you coming inside, Jean?” 

Jean waved her hand in reply. “ Not now, Sadie, thank 
you.” She called back. “ We only came for Mr. Heri- 
tage’s luggage and to leave a little parcel for Pete. Is your 
father well? ” 

“ Middlin’. Well, if you won’t, you won’t. Just a min- 
ute, Mister.” 

She went inside, presently reappearing with a portman- 
teau in each hand. 

“ They’s two shillings to pay. You staying at Jean’s 
place, Mister ? ” 

“ For the time being, I am,” said Heritage politely. “ By 
the way, here is the parcel Miss Salter wishes to leave for 
Pete Diamond. Will you see that he gets it? ” 

“ Why, certainly.” She looked at him curiously. “ Ain’t 
thinking to jump Pete’s claim, are you?” Her gaze wan- 
dered to the j inker. “ Not that I blame you. She’s a tum- 
ble good girl, is Jean.” 

“Jump Pete’s claim? I am afraid I don’t understand 
you,” said Heritage, in some bewilderment. 

The red-headed girl continued to regard him with bland 
amusement. “ I mean you ain’t aiming to spark Jean, are 
you? I sort of wouldn’t, you know, if I was you. Pete’s 
mighty jealous at times.” 

Hardly knowing whether to feel angry or amused Heri- 
tage returned to the j inker. In the end he surprised Jean 
Salter by breaking into a hearty laugh. 


io6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“Won’t you share the joke?” she invited enviously. 

In a spirit of mischief Heritage complied. “ The young 
lady answering to the name of Sadie, evidently thinks I 
stand in danger of getting my head punched,” he said. 
“ She warned me not to try to make eyes at you. She re- 
gards you as Pete’s especial property.” 

“ The idea ! ” exclaimed Jean, the warm blood flooding 
her cheeks. Her sense of humor got the better of her. 
“ How dare you repeat such dreadful nonsense, Mr. Heri- 
tage?” she asked, beginning to laugh frankly with him. 
“ It is too absurd. Sadie is delicious. Nothing seems to 
discourage her habit of speaking her mind. You see for 
yourself how embarrassing it is at times.” 

“ There’s Login,” said Heritage, as they drew near to the 
sheds again. “ Could we pass him a little more closely this 
time, Miss Salter? I’ve a fancy to see his face.” 

As it happened the request was unnecessary. At sight of 
them the man walked slowly across the paddock in front, 
so timing it as to bring himself within a yard of the track as 
they passed. He also, it seemed, wanted a closer inspection. 
At any rate, he halted and turned directly towards them. 
Heritage caught his eyes for one fleeting second, then they 
were by him and out of sight among the bushes. 

“ Rather a tough looking customer, I should say,” com- 
mented the young man, thoughtfully. “ His eyes seemed 
to bore right through me. Have you noticed the length of 
his arms? He looks like a gorilla. He must be tremen- 
dously strong.” 

Jean repressed a shiver. “ He is. I’ve seen him wrestle 
and throw a yearling bull unaided. I simply can’t bring 
myself to tolerate the man. And yet I know no actual 
harm of him. It’s only that he gives me an impression of 
something indescribably evil. I’ve always felt the same way 
about him. Pete laughs at me and says I’m too imaginative. 
Perhaps I am. I wish I could think so. Yes, Login and 
Gus Rebner are friends. You seldom see them apart.” 

“ What do they do here ? ” asked Heritage. 

“ They are Garraway’s men. They each have charge of 
a falling gang. Sometimes they come along here to help 
Williams at the ferry. I don’t know what the arrangement 
with Garraway is.” 

“ Well, I don’t suppose I shall have anything much to do 


TIMBER WOLVES 


107 


with either of them/’ declared Heritage, thankfully. His 
tone might not have been quite so confident had he been 
able to look into the future. “ I’ve my own business, and 
I mean to stick to it. Your father this morning suggested 
I should call and see Garraway. He says that nearly every 
man on The Bend, with the exception of the cattlemen, are 
on Garraway’s pay roll.” 

" Say Frame’s pay roll,” amended Jean, a little spitefully. 

“ Frame’s pay roll then. In any case I have to call on 
Garraway before I go home. I have a message to deliver 
from Frame.” 

Jean looked at him curiously, but refrained from question- 
ing. Heritage fell into a brown study. To admit his in- 
terest in Frame’s avowed intention to grab still more timber 
land around The Bend, might be to renew those suspicions 
of himself which had happily been dispelled by the friendly 
intervention of Pete Diamond. The more he considered his 
present relation with Frame the more uneasy he became. 
A kind of indignant resentment began to grow within him 
at the knowledge of the big timber merchant’s unprincipled 
methods. He came to a sudden resolve to write to Frame 
and disclaim any intention to proceed with his promise to 
aid in the further discovery of timber country. 

Jean Salter broke in on his thoughts with a little laugh. 
“ Day-dreaming, Mr. Heritage ? Come, that’s a poor com- 
pliment to the scenery; or even to me! Goodness, you do 
look so solemn.” 

Heritage made swift apology. “ My rudeness is un- 
pardonable. Please forgive me. Do you know I was 
thinking it strange that Frame and the others should al- 
ways manage to carry matters with a high hand. Surely 
there must be some way to dodge their trickiness. What is 
the real stumbling-block, do you think ? ” 

“ Want of capital,” said the girl promptly. “ Honest 
hard work has no chance whatever against unscrupulous 
wealth. Father had tried time after time to find some one 
plucky enough to stand behind him but he never could. I 
suppose people are frightened to oppose such big interests 
as those belonging to Frame.” 

“ I know. He told me a little about it,” said Heritage, 
pathetically. He relapsed into silence once more. To his 
surprise he was conscious of a distinct feeling of dislike 


io8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


towards the timber people — selfish, grasping, money-wor- 
shipping rogues ; timber wolves, as Charley Salter had called 
them. He felt that he wanted to try his wits against Frame 
and the rest of them — fight them and beat them. The idea 
took hold of him tremendously. Why not, indeed? If Sal- 
ter or some other would discover the land, it should not 
be such a very hard matter to find a decent financial back- 
ing. Surely his and Colvin’s names were good for some- 
thing. In the light of what he had learned there could be 
no question of his committing a breach of faith against 
Frame. In any case, he intended to write to the timber 
man and recall the promise he had given so innocently. 

He was roused for the second time by Jean’s voice, speak- 
ing in mock despair. “ You’re quite hopeless, Mr. Heritage. 
Have you no social obligations at all ? ” 

“ Consider me beyond redemption,” said Heritage, red- 
dening with keen self -annoyance. “ What a boor you must 
think me. My only excuse is that you have so thoroughly 
interested me in this timber business that I can hardly think 
of anything else. I throw myself on your mercy and prom- 
ise not to offend again. Miss Salter, do you think that your 
father still holds to his idea of taking up a timber lease? 
Do you think he would go ahead with the matter if the 
capital were found to back him up? Mind, I’m only 
curious. Still, I might be able to help.” 

“ I quite understand,” said the girl ; quietly, yet with a 
sudden sparkle in her eye. “ Mr. Heritage, I believe my 
father would give ten years of his life to be able to fight 
Frame and beat him. To buck the timber ring and come 
out on top is his one ambition. He says it can be done. 
Pete says so too. But they must have enough money behind 
them. Also, they need absolute faith in the men they would 
have to be associated with. There must be no question of 
their loyalty. It must be impossible for Frame to buy them 
over. Given the right conditions, both father and Pete are 
certain of success.” 

“ And you, what do you think ? ” demanded Heritage. 

Jean looked at him with a curious widening of her eyes. 
“ I think exactly as they do. Oh, I’d help ... I’d do al- 
most anything to beat those wretches at their own game. 
Of course, the chance can never be ours.” 

“ I suppose not,” said Heritage. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


109 


Ahead of them appeared Salter’s house, the iron roof 
glinting white in the rays of the declining sun. Beyond 
rose the timber, silent and motionless, the epitome of grim 
inexorable strength. Within its mysterious confines lay a 
fortune for the taking. Yet the conquest would not be 
easy. 

“ No, I suppose not,” repeated Heritage. None the less, 
his thoughts were active. 


CHAPTER VII 


G ARRAWAY’S camp lay two miles south of the 
Adaires’ home. It was built on a slight rise el- 
bowed in by a sharp curve of the Bat River as it 
swept out of the timber country to the level of the plains. 
The buildings were of hardwood boards cut from the bush 
around. The roofs were of iron, thus lessening the danger 
of fire in the summer time. A little apart stood a long, 
barn-like structure which served as an eating house for the 
men in the wet season. Therein also was the cook’s sleep- 
ing quarters. Still farther back on the edge of the clearing 
were two long lines of tents. A small creek trickled almost 
within stone throw. 

Garraway himself occupied a two-roomed hut at the head 
of the mill line. He used the front room as a kind of of- 
fice; the other was fitted for his sleeping quarters. Gen- 
erally he fed with the men over at the big hut. Here he set 
the seal of his aggressive personality more firmly upon 
them. He listened to their talk, watched the play of their 
features, studied each man apart from his fellows till he 
gauged something of the real character hidden away beneath 
habit or mannerism. In all this he had a purpose. There 
were times when it became absolutely essential to the main- 
tenance of authority that he should understand the psychol- 
ogy of the crowd that owed him paid allegiance. To ensure 
this he had need to study his men, to distinguish their strong 
or weak characteristics in such a manner as to be instantly 
able to determine how far threat or cajolery might serve his 
end. There were times when only the fear of his person- 
ality saved him from disaster at the hands of some hard- 
case, suffering real or imaginary resentment. Garraway 
drove his men hard. He went his way outwardly uncon- 
cerned, yet with all his senses alert for signs of a discontent 
that might foster personal malice against himself. He 
missed no single detail of the day’s work, speeding from 
gang to gang with tireless purpose; coaxing, exhorting, 
threatening by turns ; sparing neither himself nor others so 
long as they might accomplish the estimated haulage for the 

no 


TIMBER WOLVES 


hi 


day. As he went he made mental note of each man’s cap- 
ability, his willingness for work, his power of endurance un- 
der rush-work conditions, his popularity with the other men ; 
above all, the tone of his temper and conversation, his al- 
legiance or otherwise to the company of which Garraway 
was the immediate head. By these means he was enabled 
to weed out from his gangs those whom his judgment 
warned him were incompetent or antagonistic. By degrees 
he gathered around him a little band of men hardly less 
capable or unscrupulous than himself. 

At rare intervals Garraway spent long days at his office, 
poring over area maps or figuring estimates with a note 
book and stub of pencil. On mail days he divided his time 
between attending to correspondence and talking over the 
telephone to his agent at Sun Port. Those days he was usu- 
ally unapproachable; yet occasionally it happened that the 
progress of the work justified his indulgence in unwonted 
relaxation. Then he would light his pipe and talk to all 
and sundry, his big, booming voice full of sneering good 
humor. 

The fortnight following Heritage’s arrival in Timber 
Bend, Garraway sat in his office checking quantity reports. 
He was a big man, with full fleshy face and thick neck. 
His mouth was wide and blubber-lipped, his nose large, his 
eyes large and prominent. As he worked he spoke from 
time to time to Login, who sat smoking against the open 
window of the room. 

Presently Garraway laid his papers aside with a grunt of 
relief. Opening a drawer of his improvised desk he fished 
out a letter and began to busy himself with the contents. 
As his reading progressed a slow smile over-spread his 
heavy features. He looked across at Login like a man well 
pleased. 

“ Come here a minute, Tom.” 

The section boss rose to his feet without comment. 
Seen at close quarters his squat body and abnormally long 
arms were even more suggestive of animal strength than 
Heritage had imagined. He was clean shaven, his face 
having a curiously mottled appearance. . His eyes, like Gar- 
raway’s, were large, and abnormally wide-set; so much so, 
indeed, as to give a peculiar impression of squinting. His 
head was covered thickly with coarse brown hair. 


1 12 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Garraway kicked a soap box towards him. “ Sit down, 
Tom. I got something funny to tell you. Mail brought a 
letter from the old man. What d’ye think he wants to do 
now ? ” 

“Raise our wages, eh?” growled Login. “Damn it, he 
could well afford to, anyhow. Them big bugs are the mean- 
est things this side sheol.” 

“ They’ve got to be,” said Garraway, the shadow of a 
smile loosening the corners of his mouth. “ Things are cut 
that fine in the market nowadays that expenses have to be 
kept down to bed-rock.” 

“ Well, what’s he writing about then ? ” asked Login, sud- 
denly. “ Putting on more hands ? Ain’t the work fast 
enough for him?” 

Garraway referred again to the letter in his hand. “ He 
don’t say. What he’s after now is more country. Seems to 
think this lot won’t last forever. What do you say?” 

“Say? Hell. . . .” Login spat disgustedly. “Ain’t 
he a whale for wanting things? You or me would never 
think of half of them. Ain’t he got all the country as it 
is? Frame makes me sick.” 

“ Not quite,” said Garraway, carefully. “ Frame has 
most of the timber area, I grant you ; but it seems there’s 
still an acre or so left over. Fat Salter claims he knows of 
a bed of hardwood, anyhow. Frame put the acid on him 
too quick and scared him. He shut up like a clam. Now 
Frame’s trying to work the oracle through a third party. 
It seems a young chap named Heritage is coming to these 
parts on some business of his own. The boss counts on 
making use of him in such a way that he won’t get wise to 
a thing.” 

A flash of interest came into Login’s eyes. “ Heritage, 
you said. I guess he’s here now. Been here a week or 
more.” 

“ How d’you know that? Seen him? ” 

“ Saw him driving with Salter’s girl,” said Login. 
“ Regular city suit case. Wears a clean collar. I knew he 
was coming, anyhow. Gus ran against him at Hennessy’s. 
He don’t know a thing.” 

“ Who don’t ? ” asked the manager sharply. 

“ This Heritage. We’re in for a time, all right. Quite 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ii3 

a little picnic breaking him in. Seems like he’s got on the 
silly side of Pete Diamond though.” 

Garraway laid a thick finger on the desk. His face wore 
a kind of uneasy frown. 

“ Now there’s a man I don’t understand; and you can take 
it from me I don’t say that of many men. I never did 
quite get the hang of Pete Diamond. Just how much does 
he know, I wonder.” 

“ He don’t know nothing,” asserted Login, contemptu- 
ously. “ He may think he does, but he don’t. Anyway, 
you don’t need to let yourself get scared. You know how 
Pete stands with the police. Sort of crawling round on a 
good behavior ticket, ain’t he. I can fix him any time. 
Anyhow, it wouldn’t pay him to get in dirty with Frame. 
You can take it that Pete’s all right.” 

“ I hope he is — for his own sake,” said Garraway, coldly 
emphatic. “ Now about this young chap, Heritage? Listen 
what Frame writes me : ‘ I’m fairly certain there’s still 

timber land unheld south to west of the Bat. If there is, 
we must have it. There’s a young friend of mine named 
Heritage means crossing to your district in a day or two. 
I’ve told him to look you up. He carries a map (or what 
he supposes to be a map) of the leased ground on The 
Bend. I’ve told him to find out just what ground there is 
left over, and make a quiet note of it. If no one talks too 
much, he’ll do it. He’s that sort of a man. So long as 
you soap him well he’ll slip on to anything you like to ask 
him. Keep your mouth shut when he’s about, and see none 
of the boys get gay with him while he’s working for me. 
Afterwards, you can have all the fun you want.’ ” 

Garraway folded the letter and stowed it carefully away. 
He shot a meaning look at Login, who was grinning evilly. 
“You get that last chorus of the old man’s? Well, see to 
it. Frame don’t like Heritage over much. That’s plain. 
But he’s got to keep sweet with him while there’s a chance 
of using him. No, he don’t like him. Maybe he was trying 
to spark the old man’s daughter. Some class, that girl. I 
met her last time I was on the mainland.” 

Login continued to grin. “ I’ll go to the wedding, Slum. 
All right ... I must have my joke. You don’t need to 
get cross-eyed. Now this man, Heritage! ... I don’t mind 


TIMBER WOLVES 


1 14 

telling you I’ve took a kind of dislike to him. He’s a whole 
lot too fancy looking to suit me. All the same, I don’t think 
he’ll scare easy. Gus tried it on him but he wouldn’t shoo 
for grapes.” 

“ What’s he look like ? ” asked the manager, carelessly. 

Login rose to his feet and stuffed his pipe into his hip 
pocket. “ Why, he’s this sort of a looking feller and that 
sort of a looking feller. I’d hate to have to hit his baby 
face, it’s that clean and pretty looking. He’s . . .” 

His gaze had wandered to the open window, and he 
paused suddenly and began to point with a long sinewy fore- 
finger. “If you look to the left of the crane there, you’ll 
see him for yourself. He’s coming this way. They’s a 
woman with him.” 

Garraway looked quickly in the direction indicated. 
“ That’s Miss Adaire,” he asserted. He failed to remark 
the interest on Login’s broad face at the mention of the 
name. “ I reckon Heritage is coming to see me, and the 
girl offered to show him the way. So that’s Frame’s stool 
pigeon, is it? He’s no slouch to look at, anyhow. If his 
wits are as smart as his body looks, the old man will get a 
slap or two before he’s finished.” 

Garraway turned to his foreman with a sudden resump- 
tion of his authority. “ You better clear out of this, Tom, 
before they get here. I reckon that’ll be about all I wanted 
you for. And mind you don’t get talking among the boys. 
Time enough when I give you the tip ! ” 

Login moved away grumbling. “ Me talk ! ” he called 
back over his shoulder. “ I’ll be getting a wife, maybe, one 
of these days. I reckon she’ll do enough talking for the 
both of us. I’m no newsagent.” 

He stepped outside on to the boardway just as Heritage 
and the girl reached the door. Standing back against the 
railing to let them pass, Login favored them with a long 
impudent stare. His wide-set eyes held a curious light. 
There was something disgusting in the way he licked his lips 
and spat on the ground. 

“ Well, he’s a hell of a fine feller with the wimmen, ain’t 
he? ” he mumbled to himself, as he turned away. “ Salter’s 
girl one day, and her the next. Maybe we’ll see.” 

On the entrance of his visitors Garraway had risen to his 
feet. His big, fleshy face showed nothing but friendly in- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ii5 

terest. In response to Heritage’s introduction of himself, 
he held out his hand frankly. 

“ Mr. Frame wrote me to expect you, Mr. Heritage. I’m 
glad to see you. Miss Adaire, I’m sorry I haven’t a more 
comfortable seat to offer you, but this is bachelor’s hall, you 
know. And how’s your father ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Garraway,” said the girl, doubtfully. 
“ He seemed so much improved until about a week ago, 
but now he’s as restless as ever. I think there is something 
worrying him.” She was silent a moment; then asked, 
“ Are you very busy just now? I suppose you are.” 

Garraway seemed amused. “ Busy ! Well, just a little 
perhaps. We don’t growl though. It’s what we’re paid 
for ... to be busy. There’s no room for slackers in the 
big timber.” He turned and looked at Heritage. “ What’s 
your idea of things ? ” 

“ I think you’re right,” said the young man. “ The very 
nature of your occupation seems to forbid idling. The 
work is too strenuous and exacting, I should imagine, for 
any but physically fit men. It’s a daring task, this fighting 
the big wilderness. Even I can imagine the fascination of 
the thing. Only that my lines are cast in other places, I 
could relish leading the sort of life you do here.” 

Garraway looked at him curiously. “ You think so ! 
Well, maybe you might. What about the rough side, eh? 
What about the sheer hard graft ; and never knowing when 
a log might roll on you, or a scrouge catch you, or a cable 
break and saw your body in half? What about the hard 
beds and the still harder tucker ? Or the chance to get your 
face pushed in by some tough from down under? How 
does that fit the picture ? ” 

Heritage laughed good-humoredly. “ I’d be willing to 
chance all that. I suppose others have to go through the 
mill. If they can, so could I. If I fell down on the job, 
I’d try not to growl too hard.” 

Garraway’s face showed no amusement. “ It’s not likely 
you’ll be tried out, anyway. As you say, this ain’t your 
job. From what Frame says, you’re only making a little 
business trip. Having a look round, eh? I’m not asking 
your business ! ” 

Heritage exchanged a smile with Peggy. “ You must 
hear a little of it, all the same, Mr. Garraway. Because I 


ii 6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


kept my own counsel too closely when I first came to Tim- 
ber Bend, some one intelligently mistook me for a policeman 
and took a pot shot at me.” 

The manager looked politely inquisitive. “ Is that so ? 
And you were not a policeman, after all ? Too bad ! ” 

“ I’m glad you think so,” said Heritage, dryly. “ I can 
tell you my business in a few words. I’ve come to look for 
a man named Barkley. Do you know the name?” 

“ No,” said Garraway bluntly. He added, after an in- 
terval of silence, “ No, I don’t. You need more than a 
name to track a man with in country like this. They’re 
mostly income tax dodgers hereabouts. They take a fresh 
name with each job. What’s he look like, this man Bar- 
ker?” 

“ Barkley, you mean. I can’t describe him, unfortun- 
ately. He will be close to sixty years, I should say. He is 
well educated and has been to sea in his younger days. 
That’s all I can tell you.” 

“ It’s hardly enough. He’s old, and he’s been a sailor. 
I can find you a dozen men would fill that bill. What sort 
of a job did you leave to go chasing wild geese? Why, if 
you know no more about your man than what you’ve told 
me, you’ll save time by catching the first boat back to the 
mainland. Not that I want to lose your company so soon, 
of course.” 

Behind the manager’s banter ran a strain of malice. 
Heritage felt it and flushed resentfully. 

“ I’ve plenty of time on my hands, if that’s what is troub- 
ling you,” he retorted. “ I’ll admit, if you like, that the 
prospect is not very hopeful. At the same time, one can 
but do his best. And I’ve got an idea that Barkley is right 
here where I expect to find him. Call it intuition, if you 
like.” 

“ And when you do find him ? ” queried Garraway, in- 
differently. 

“ He can tell his own tale,” replied Heritage, more point- 
edly, perhaps, than the occasion demanded. 

If Garraway noticed the snub he did not show it. He 
turned to Peggy Adaire with a smile. 

“You’d like a cup of tea, eh, Miss Adaire? Of course 
you would. Now I wonder if you’d mind giving your own 
orders? You’ll find George Judney and Solium over at 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ii 7 

the big hut. Will you tell them to put the billy on, or shall 

I? ” 

She looked at him gratefully. “ I am thirsty for a cup of 
tea, Mr. Garraway. Don’t you bother though. I know 
how busy you are. I’ll run across to the hut myself, and 
coax Solium to make tea for us all.” 

“ Count me out, if you don’t mind,” said Garraway, still 
smiling. “ I’ll send Mr. Heritage after you though, in a 
minute or so. Well, good-by, Miss Adaire. Sorry your 
father isn’t as well as he might be.” 

When the girl had gone Garraway addressed Heritage 
abruptly. “ I’m reminded that Frame said something in 
his letter about you doing a little commission for him. He 
told me all about it. Of course, it’s quite a simple under- 
taking. We know there is still unoccupied territory, but 
neither Frame nor I have the time to look it up. That be- 
ing so, he naturally turned to you. Being friends, he knew 
he could rely on your promise to help.” 

Heritage hesitated. “ I did promise something of the 
kind. To be quite frank, however, I don’t exactly see what 
I can do. If you folk right on the spot don’t know of any 
timber location, what sort of a show do you think I would 
make in the way of land finding? I don’t even know the 
survey marks when I see them.” 

For all his seeming heaviness Garraway was quick-witted 
enough. “So! If that means anything, it means that you 
don’t mean to go ahead on the job. You’re going back on 
your promise to Frame. Why?” 

Heritage met the manager’s gaze squarely. “ Mr. Gar- 
raway, I hate beating about the bush, so I’ll say this. Since 
I came to Timber Bend I’ve learnt things that have changed 
my viewpoint entirely. If one half of what is told me is 
true, then the big timber men who hold control of the in- 
dustry along this coast should be hounded out of business. 
I can understand fair business rivalry. I can even under- 
stand unfair business rivalry, provided it is confined to an 
equal advantage on both sides. Then it’s a case of Greek 
meeting Greek. What seems incomprehensible to me is the 
attitude of the big established firms towards the outsider 
who dares to market timber on his own initiative. No need 
to tell you what happens to him. By fair means or foul the 
ring (for I begin to believe there is a timber ring) breaks 


n8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


him. Not more than a few hours ago I was told something 
of the circumstances connected with a man named Perkins. 
You see I can offer concrete illustration of what I complain 
about. Do you pretend to offer any excuse for Frame’s 
conduct towards that man ? I tell you, Mr. Garraway, that 
a more flagrant example of business Kaiserism never hap- 
pened. And I’m a lawyer by profession, remember, and 
fully used to meeting evidence of shady transactions. The 
whole thing seems to be so petty, so mean, so uselessly cruel 
and tyrannical. Nothing can excuse Frame’s behavior. 
That is the reason why I refuse now utterly to associate 
myself with any attempt of his to further add to the timber 
holdings he already possesses.” 

Garraway’s eyes seemed to narrow. “ You’re raising a 
storm in a tea-cup. There can be no sentiment in business, 
Mr. Heritage. You ought to know that. The timber game 
is like any other money-making concern. It’s a fight from 
start to finish, and God help the other fellow. If an out- 
sider butts into the play he takes his chance of getting hurt. 
I know all about Tas Perkins. He got what was coming 
to him. I say that deliberately. You’re basing your con- 
clusions on incomplete evidence. You’ve probably had the 
facts misrepresented regarding what you do know. For a 
lawyer you show very narrow judgment. The trouble is 
that you’re looking at this thing from the wrong end. Turn 
it round and squint the other way and most likely you’ll see 
facts coming to meet you.” 

“ I’m more likely to see self-respect vanishing round the 
corner,” retorted Heritage. “ There may be truth in what 
you say. I don’t profess any particular ability as a lawyer, 
anyhow. Your criticism is beside the question. I’m argu- 
ing this thing from the point of view of an ordinary decent 
citizen, who has enough humanity in him to resent the bare- 
faced robbery from his kind of any attempt to better him- 
self. The thing is grossly dishonest.” 

Garraway’s patience was not proof against this. He 
sneered openly in reply. “ I see. ‘ I was born of poor but 
honest parents,’ and all the rest of the common cant. As a 
matter of fact, the boot is on the other foot. We (for I 
count myself in this, and damn glad to do it) are after all 
the business we can get. Our methods are no better or 
worse than any one else’s. We’ve had to fight for what we 


TIMBER WOLVES 


1 19 

have, and we’ve got to keep on fighting to hold on to it. 
We want to keep on climbing. And we’re honest enough to 
admit it. If you saw your way to grab into the game you’d 
do it to-morrow.” He snapped his thumb and finger to- 
wards Heritage. “ That much for your sing-song piety. 
It’s a case of sour grapes. You ain’t much of a lawyer, 
after all.” 

“ You said that before,” said Heritage, sharply. “ I’d 
like to hear your idea of why not ! ” 

The manager shrugged his shoulders. “ I thought a good 
lawyer took sides with the biggest money. Well, you know 
your business best. I suppose you’ve fixed it with Frame, 
eh?” 

“ I’ve written to him declining to act, if that’s what you 
mean. I could hardly do less. In a way I’m sorry to dis- 
appoint Mr. Frame, but it can’t be helped. I hope he sees 
my point of view.” 

Garraway grunted, but made no other response. Heritage 
got slowly to his feet. “ I mustn’t take up any more of your 
time. I can see you’re anxious to get ahead with your 
work. Good-by, Mr. Garraway. Glad to have made your 
acquaintance.” 

“ Good-by,” said Garraway, shortly. He turned his back 
and began to busy himself with his papers. 

Heritage left the room with a distinct feeling of relief. 
He was inclined to blame himself for the unfriendly turn 
the conversation had taken, yet reflected that it was just as 
well to make his position clear. He had an uneasy impres- 
sion, however, that Garraway would misrepresent what he 
had said when reporting the conversation to Frame, as he 
was bound to do. 

“ I seem to have suddenly contracted a habit of un- 
popularity,” he muttered ruefully, as he made his way across 
the uneven ground towards the big messhouse. His depres- 
sion did not last long. A sudden burst of girlish laughter 
coming from the building ahead made him grin sympatheti- 
cally. 

“ What a girl that is ! ” he thought swiftly. “ To think of 
her sweetness being buried in a place like this. It’s a rotten 
shame. And yet Adaire thinks the world of his daughter, 
that’s certain. He wouldn’t keep her in this God-forsaken 
place without a reason. Well, it’s none of my business. 


120 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Peggy Adaire! And she’s as pretty as her name. Jack, 
my son, you’re getting sentimental.” 

Peggy was seated at the board table, a huge pannican of 
steaming hot tea at her elbow. Her face was alight with 
laughter as she talked to Solium Joe, who was peeling 
potatoes into a kerosene tin. 

“Joe, you’re fibbing horribly! Do you really want me 
to believe that the reason you are not married is because 
George objected. 

“ Send I may die, Miss, if it ain’t so ! ” Joe’s roving eyes 
fell on Heritage standing in the doorway, and he ceased 
abruptly. 

Peggy greeted the young man with a friendly wave of her 
teaspoon. “ You are just in time for some afternoon tea, 
Mr. Heritage! You’ve met Solium already, haven’t you? 
And this is George Judney ! ” 

Heritage found himself shaking hands with a tall, bony 
man of about fifty, whose body and limbs seemed to be all 
nobs and angles. A pair of mournful brown eyes regarded 
him from out of a perfect wilderness of eyebrow and whis- 
ker. When Judney spoke his voice appeared to issue from 
his interior in a kind of drawling rumble. 

“ Good day to you. Sort of warmish, ain’t it ? Minds me 
of the time me and Bill Hardie was camped in the Mallee. 
I disremember jess what year that was exactly, but it don’t 
matter. Take a seat.” 

Peggy made room for Heritage on the bench beside her. 
He looked in some dismay at the huge pannican of tea 
handed to him by the grinning Solium. 

“ Gracious, I’ll never be able to drink all that ! ” he ex- 
claimed. “ This mug must hold a couple of pints ! ” 

The girl laughed. “ Well, I’m in the same fix. We can 
only do our best. Oh, I was quite forgetting something. 
When you came, Solium was going to tell me why he and 
George have remained bachelors. Now, Joe, please ! We’re 
all listening beautifully.” 

The little man appeared a shade embarrassed. He rolled 
a doubtful eye at Heritage, who nodded encouragingly. 

“ Go ahead with the yarn. Don’t mind me ! I say, 
though, did you make these soda scones? You did? By 
Jove, I never tasted better in my life. Can I have another, 
please ? ” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


121 


In response to this artful flattery, Solium’s hesitation 
vanished in a grin that seemed to meet at the back of his 
head. 

“ Why, you see, it was like this. Me and George one time 
was carting firewood for the butter factory at Glen Arden, 
and they was a feemale used to wait at table over at Sandall’s 
boarding house where we put up week-ends. Every time 
me and George saw that gal we got worse tangled up in 
our minds. I tell you she hailed from down south where 
I was born, and every time I looked at her it was like opening 
a letter from home. I thought a whole heap of that gal’s 
kind opinion. George here was jess the same. Most every 
time she’d come and ast what he would have to eat, George 
would curl up and mighty near bust with self-congratula- 
tion. 

“ ‘ If Bill Hardie could see me now,’ says old George, 
every little while, 4 1 wouldn’t call the queen my aunt. Did 
you see Amalia’s eye admiring of me, Solium?’ says he. 
‘ Wimmen go mad when they see my face,’ says George. ‘ I 
must have been married a thousand times only I hadn’t the 
heart to disappoint the other nine hundred and ninety-nine.’ ” 

“ Who was Bill Hardie ? ” asked Heritage. 

Solium’s faded blue eyes regarded him compassionately. 
“ To think you didn’t know that ! Why, he was a friend of 
George’s, I reckon. Now, as I was telling you, me and 
George gets that way at last, that we can’t look at one an- 
other without wanting a funeral. Says George to me one 
day, ‘ Joe, this is the first time a feemale has introduced the 
knife of distension between you and me. They’s no need for 
it. She can’t marry us both. I object to you being Amalia’s 
husband for three reasons — you’ve got no money to keep 
her in comfort, you can’t afford to maintain her as she’d 
orter be, and you’re not rich enough to support her. Be- 
sides that, you’re too old. You’re nearly old enough to be 
dead. For you to marry that girl would be like Father 
Christmas espousing a baby in arms. When I marry 
Amalia Peters,’ says George, * you can hit the track on your 
lonesome and keep on going till you bust right into the middle 
of the Great Southern Pacific Ocean. I’m through with 
you,’ says George. 

“ ‘ Not so,’ I tells him. ‘ If that gal marries any one, she 
marries me. What she wants is a husband, not a quaran- 


1 22 


TIMBER WOLVES 


tine home for rheumatic germs. She marries ME. But I’ll 
tell you what I’ll do, jess to show they ain’t any selfishness 
about us. We’ll let you come round to the house now and 
again, and sit on the veranda and listen to the kids call you 
gran-pa. 

“‘Will you toss up for her?’ says George. ‘Sudden 
death, and my own coin, and I will ! ’ says I. We finds a 
penny and tosses her up. And there you are ! ” 

Solium’s recital ended abruptly. He lifted the tin of 
potatoes from the table and swung it on the iron crane above 
the fire. From his seat in the corner George Judney looked 
on mournfully. 

“ But you haven’t finished ! ” protested Peggy. “ Which 
way did the penny fall ? Who won the toss ? ” 

Judney’s hollow voice volunteered the information. 
“ Why, Miss Peggy, you see Joe’s kind of forgot to tell you 
that. It was this way. There was a crack in the decking of 
the culvert where we was standing when we tossed. That 
penny went through it like a flash of light and we ain’t seen 
it since. Maybe it fell heads ; and then again, maybe it fell 
tails. We dunno ! ” 

“And you let it go at that. You never tossed again?’’ 
asked the girl, incredulously. 

“Why, no! You see it were sudden death,” explained 
Solium, gravely. “ It’s kind of worried me since that we 
fixed it that way. We ain’t seen Amalia since. I often 
wonder how she bore up under the blow. Wimmen is such 
turrible creatures to worry.” 

“ Is all this true, or is it not?” demanded Peggy, looking 
from one old man to the other. “ You just love to tease 
me. I don’t believe there is such a person as Amalia Peters, 
or whatever you call her. George, how is your rheumatism ? 
Shall I send you some more liniment? Mind, it’s to rub 
yourself with, not to drink.” 

Judney regarded his partner with sour disfavor. “ So 
Solium’s been spouting again, has he?” 

Joe grinned uneasily. “ She ast, or I shouldn’t have 
breathed a word. Ain’t that so, Miss Peggy ? ” 

“ Now don’t start quarreling,” admonished the girl, laugh- 
ingly. “ We must be going soon, I think. Thank you so 
much for the tea and scones. They were beautiful ; weren’t 


TIMBER WOLVES 


123 


they, Mr. Heritage? And how is Snowy getting on, George? 
He was such a tiny, groggy-legged mite of a calf the last 
time I saw him.” 

“ Now there’s a animal, if you like,” said the lank hut- 
keeper, with melancholy pride. “ I disremember ever seeing 
a better looking calf in all my days. He’s doing fine, Miss. 
’Member when they first brought him in?” 

The girl turned to Heritage. “ Snowy is George’s pet calf, 
Mr. Heritage. Some of Sanderson’s men found him on the 
run by the side of his dead mother. She was only a heifer, 
and a stranger on the coast. She bogged herself in a winter 
creek and somehow broke her neck. So far as the men could 
see she was a clearskin; no one seemed to know who had 
owned her. They brought the calf along to the camp here, 
and turned it over to George and Joe.” 

“ Follers George around like a cattle pup,” said Solium. 
“ To see it you’d kind of think George was its mother. The 
jolliest little cuss I ever helped poddy.” 

“What did you feed it with?” asked Heritage. “ Did 
you have plenty of milk?” 

“ This ain’t a dairy farm ; it’s a mill camp,” said Solium. 
“Did you never hear of hay tea and a drop of oil? We 
put him out on the grass at Quigley’s farm last month. It’s 
been kind of lonesome ever since he went. That calf was 
better company than a barn full of funny men from the 
circus. They weren’t more’n half my Sunday pants left 
when they took him to Quigley’s. Snowy had eaten most of 
’em. I never see such a whale for eating other folks clothes. 
Ain’t that so, George ? ” 

“ True as death ! ” Judney corroborated plaintively. “ I 
ain’t blew my nose for more’n a fortnight. ‘ And why? ’ says 
you. Because I ain’t had nothing to do it with, since Snowy 
eat up the linen press the day before he left ; that’s why. 
The insides of that busted calf must have been like a bargain 
sale at a draper’s. I want to go shopping every time I 
think of him.” 

Peggy shrugged her slender shoulders in comical despair. 
“ These men are utterly shameless, Mr. Heritage. Did you 
ever hear such nonsense as they talk? Well, good-by. Be 
sure and let me know if you want any more liniment, 
George ! ” 


124 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ And how did you get on with Mr. Garraway ? ” she 
asked, as they went across the yards. “Was he able to 
suggest a way to find the man you want ? ” 

“ I’m afraid we didn’t hit it off too well after you had 
gone,” confessed Heritage. “ I wonder if you would be in- 
terested to know just why it was. You see when Mr. Frame 
heard that I was coming here he asked me to do my best to 
find out if there was any timber land still untouched on 
Timber Bend. I agreed. Since landing here, however, I 
have learnt a little of the methods adopted by the big timber 
firms towards possible rivals. I can’t rid myself of the belief 
that Frame and the rest of his kind have too large an interest 
in what should really be a national industry, fostered by the 
Government in the interest of the whole community; not, 
as it is now, owned and controlled by a little group of greedy 
capitalists. In any case, the ordinary man in the street 
should have equal right to benefit, provided he has the cour- 
age and the skill to compete with those already in the trade. 
Yet what actually happens? If an outsider dares to enter 
the game he becomes a target for the trickeries and rogueries 
of the trade. It appears that way to me, anyhow. I’ve 
tried to disbelieve what I’ve been told, but I cannot. The 
thing is only too true. A new man is given no chance. 
He’s bludgeoned out of his business with no compunction 
whatever. It makes one’s blood boil.” 

“ I’m glad you’re coming to see the injustice of it,” said 
the girl, quietly. “ If you can feel as you do on such a 
slight experience, what do you suppose must be our indigna- 
tion against the methods of the big firms? Yet we can do 
nothing. Did you tell Mr. Garraway what you thought of 
things ? ” 

“I’m glad to say I did. He was inclined to make the 
matter a personal one, I think. He was very curt at parting. 
Miss Adaire, I can’t for the life of me see what Frame could 
have expected me to do for him. It could be only by the 
merest chance that I might discover unoccupied territory. 
Did Frame count on his luck aiding him to such an extent 
as all that ? I can’t believe it. He had some definite plan ; 
though what it was I am unable to say.” 

Peggy looked at him thoughtfully. “ Mr. Heritage, I 
don’t believe that Frame ever expected you to personally 
locate timber land. It would be absurd to think he did. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


125 


You may think it uncharitable of me, but I consider it more 
likely Frame counted on you becoming friendly with cer- 
tain people here, gaining their confidence (quite innocently 
though it might be) and thus acquiring what information 
they had. For instance, Frame might have thought it likely 
you could find out from Mr. Salter where his little patch of 
timber land is. Both Frame and Garraway have tried to 
trick Mr. Salter into an admission, but he is too clever for 
them.” She broke off, exclaiming suddenly, “ Why, how 
white your face has gone! Is the heat too much for you, 
Mr. Heritage? Shall we rest in the shade for a little 
while? ” 

The concern in her voice thrilled Heritage pleasantly, 
albeit he was then experiencing a sense of shame and 
indignation which literally overwhelmed him. Not for an 
instant did he doubt that the girl’s guess at Frame’s motive 
was the correct one. The thought galled him intensely. 
What a contemptible, spiritless creature must Frame have 
taken him for, to suppose him capable of being used in such 
a dirty manner. Actually then it had been intended that 
he should worm the confidence of Salter and others, under 
the guise of friendship. 

“ It isn’t the heat that troubles me, Miss Adaire. I believe 
your estimate of Frame’s intentions is correct. It’s not very 
pleasant for me to reflect on the opinion he must have held 
of me to dare think I would consent to act in such a way. 
Do you know that I’ve known Frame ever since I was a 
youngster; yet never once did I guess him to be the kind 
of man that he is. Even now I can hardly realize him 
capable of such a brutal violation of friendship.” 

They proceeded in silence for a little way. When Heritage 
spoke again his indignation was not so evident. He glanced 
at his companion almost apologetically. 

“ I’m a bear, Miss Peggy. See how ill-tempered I can be. 
And yet can you wonder at it? I wouldn’t lift a hand to 
serve Frame’s end, even if he went down on his knees to ask 
me. I’ll tell you what I mean to do though. I’m going into 
the trade here in opposition to him. Does that startle you ? 
It sounds a wild boast, but I’m quite in earnest. Why not, 
if it comes to that, and supposing me to be in the slightest 
degree capable? I’ve taken back my promise to Frame. 
What little confidence of his I possess, was forced upon 


126 


TIMBER WOLVES 


me. I can see nothing dishonorable in doing as I propose. 
Can you ? ” 

She flushed a little at the earnest appeal in his voice and 
eyes. “ No, I cannot. For Mr. Frame to exact a promise 
from you as he did, was grossly dishonest. You owe him 
no allegiance whatever. Oh, Mr. Heritage, please be careful 
in what you do. So many have tried to 4 buck the ring,’ 
as Pete Diamond calls it, and failed wretchedly. I should 
never forgive myself if any word of mine tempted you to 
make an error of judgment. And yet, how glorious it would 
be if we could win through.” 

Heritage laughed with restored good humor. This coup- 
ling of her name with his, as it might be, though doubtless 
quite unintentional was, nevertheless, delightfully suggestive 
of the friendliness between them. With such a girl as this 
allied to his interest, what might he not accomplish. 

“ Don’t worry, Miss Peggy. I’ve got an intuition, or 
whatever you like to call it, that we shall give Frame all the 
trouble he wants if he tries to bully us. I think we are in 
for a hard fight, in any case. Of course, the idea is, so far, 
no more than a suggestion. It will depend a great deal on 
what Mr. Salter, Pete, and your father have to say.” He 
laughed again, as a thought occurred. “ I’m in danger of 
losing sight entirely of my real reason for coming to Timber 
Bend. I’ve been here a fortnight, and what have I done to 
find Barkley? My partner in Melbourne will begin to growl 
very soon. Good old Colvin; his bark’s a good deal worse 
than his bite.” 

After he parted with Peggy at the gate of her home, 
Heritage resumed his way thoughtfully. Charley Salter 
greeted him with the announcement that Mrs. Salter and 
Tean had driven to Green Valley and were not expected home 
till late. 

“ Reckon we’ll have to grub for our own tea,” lamented 
the stout man perspiringly. “ Well, they’s plenty of cold 
victuals. How’d you hit it with Slum Garraway? Get 
your corns trod on?” 

On Heritage relating the events of the afternoon, Salter 
looked serious. 

“ Gosh ! you ain’t really meaning to have a shot at Frame, 
are vou ? Why, they’d skin you alive.” 

The young man’s chin went out obstinately. “ That re- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


127 


mains to be seen. You’ll think that I’ve come to this decision 
pretty suddenly. So I have. I’ve given you good reasons 
for so doing. Mr. Salter, you said once that you’d give 
a good deal to enter the timber trade. If you really meant 
that, here’s your chance. If you or Pete can find the timber 
I’ll do my best to raise sufficient capital to keep our heads 
above water. We can take Mr. Adaire in with us and go 
even shares in the venture. I’ll admit that we shall have 
to go very carefully. The whole thing will need to be 
thought over before we stir a hand. Well, what’s your own 
idea ? Have we a chance ? ” 

The stout man’s eyes were glistening. “ One in a hun- 
dred ; but I’m game to take it. It depends mostly on whether 
you can find us enough ready money to hang on to our 
leases while we fight the local ring. It’ll be some fight. If 
we slip past them here, they’ll come at us in the open market. 
They’s no dirt on God’s earth that Frame and his crowd 
won’t come at. You want to understand that before you 
start. It’ll be a fight to a finish.” 

“ I suppose so,” said Heritage, soberly. “ Well, I should 
say that we four will take a lot of scaring. It will be mostly 
a question of capital, after all. And I’m tolerably certain 
that we can get plenty of backing. Tell me something about 
local conditions, timber values, and so on. Of the practical 
side — your side of the business, I know nothing at all. If 
I’m to be of any help, except financially, I need to learn all 
I can. Supposing we decide right away to take up a tim- 
ber area, what conditions are absolutely essential? Go into 
detail as much as you can.” 

Salter sat his chair in frowning silence. It was evident 
he was thinking deeply. Heritage lit one of his few remain- 
ing cigars and passed his case across to his host. The stout 
man helped himself abstractedly. Presently he began to 
speak. 

“ I figured out long enough ago jess what I’d do if ever 
I had the chance to market timber against Frame. Here’s 
the way of it. Find out what the building trade wants and 
then give it to ’em. Well, can we do it? Can we give them 
the kind of timber they want, and at the price they’re willing 
to pay? I say we can.” 

He ruminated once more, chewing heavily on the butt of 
his unlighted cigar. 


128 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ We grow two kinds of wood here that are gradually 
pushing aside the imported timber when it comes to a com- 
parison of price and general utility. Folks are beginning 
to find out that our hardwood makes as good studs, scant- 
lings, and boards as they could wish for. They ain’t any 
need to get hollering across the sea for what grows right at 
our own back door. What do they use our hardwoods for? 
Pretty near everything in the line, don’t they. Stringy-bark 
for floors, studs, furniture, and so on. Blackwood for fur- 
niture, and staves for the coopers’ trade. What ain’t our 
hardwood fit for? They’re even using it in the mines now 
in place of Oregon and Douglas Fir. I’ve seen more than 
one tender calling for stringy-bark, messmate and mountain 
ash. Granted they’re heavier than the Oregon and Fir, and 
not so pliable, what does that matter. Look at the price 
of the different timbers. Look at the quantity of our own 
sort. The imported stuff shouldn’t have a leg to stand on. 
It gets me why folks didn’t wake up sooner to the value of 
their own forests, here in Australasia. 

“Well, they’s no doubt they’s plenty of hardwood to be 
got on The Bend here. Can we market it ? What’s it going 
to cost to get it out of the bush? And how long will it be 
before we get our first returns to hand? Can we hang on 
till then?” 

“ That will be my part of the business,” said Heritage. 
“ I don’t foresee any great difficulty about financing the 
venture. There must be any amount of folks on the look- 
out for a good investment. It will be up to me to find some 
of them. Now tell me this. Isn’t there any amount of 
hardwood on the mainland? How can we compete from 
here? It isn’t as if we were well established, with a good 
connection to work on. And then again, how does the price 
of our stuff compare with the imported? Price is a fair 
leveler of distinction, you must remember.” 

The stout man laughed easily. “ Don’t let that worry 
you. We’ve a big margin in our favor. For instance, 
Oregon flooring costs about £2 per hundred super ; our floor- 
ing, runs to about 16s. a hundred lineal. You don’t want 
to take much notice of what some of the firms are doing. 
It’s a kind of game that’s being played, with the public going 
4 he ’ the whole time. They’re forcing Japanese oak on the 
market now at sevenpence a foot. Our hardwood can be 


TIMBER WOLVES 


129 

got at threepence a foot. Compare them prices for your- 
self. 

“ Take your other question, about the timber on the 
mainland. Let me tell you that what they grow over there 
ain’t up to what we’ve got here, for value. The Tassie 
hardwood wears best ; they’s fewer gum veins in it. Another 
thing, we season our stuff in the stacks a lot more than they 
season theirs across the water. No, Mr. Heritage, our 
biggest difficulty is going to be getting the timber on to the 
market. We’ll have to go slow, and keep expenses down 
to bed-rock. My own idea is to open with Blackwood and 
follow along with the other later. If we can get a contract 
for staves for the barrel trade, we ought to do well enough 
to put up a small mill of our own. We can get staves for 
1 os. a hundred at the stump. The present price on the 
market is from 48s. and upwards. It won’t take anywhere 
near the difference in them two prices to freight the staves 
across the water.” 

“ How about the cost of our lease ? ” asked Heritage. 

“ They’s the survey fee — say £30 per thousand acres.! 
Then they’s the government royalty on the timber we take 
off. I don’t jess remember what the hardwood is, but for 
Blackwood it runs to 15s. a hundred super. Them things 
are trifles though. It’s getting the stuff out that’s going 
to be the trouble. How are we going to land in to the gov- 
ernment line? We can’t use Frame’s tramway, that’s a 
certainty.” 

“No waterways we could make use of? Couldn’t we lay 
some sort of a light tramline later on? ” 

Salter got up from his chair ponderously. “We might use 
the Bat River to raft staves down as far as Gray Lagoon, 
but there we’d stick. This thing is going to take some 
thinking out. We’ll talk things over more fully after tea. 
As for laying a line of our own, they’s small chance of it. 
They’s got to be a bill through Parliament before they’ll 
let you do that.” 

“Frame got his. Why can’t we?” objected Heritage. 

“ Because we ain’t got the pull, that’s why. Goodness 
me, I don’t get no thinner, do I ? Well, once we get to holts 
with Garraway my flesh ought to work loose all right, all 
right. None of us’ll need to stand in the same place for 
more’n a minute at a stretch then, or Garraway or some one ’ll 


130 


TIMBER WOLVES 


try to carve us in half with a band saw. You made your 
will ? ” 

“ A nice question to ask a lawyer ! Not only have I made 
my own will, but I also helped to draw up Frame’s. It’s 
about the only bit of business he ever gave me.” 

The stout man sighed pleasurably. “ I ain’t one to take 
notice of omens, but that certainly looks good to me. Maybe 
you’ll help bury him one of these days. I’m going inside 
to lay the tea. We’ll talk some more about this.” 

He stumped away, and Heritage was left gazing out 
across the paddocks. The sultry heat of the day had given 
place to a cool change from the west. There was more than 
a hint of rain in the air. Even Heritage, unversed in such 
matters, sniffed the savor of it in the freshening breeze. 
Nor were other signs of a rough night lacking, had he been 
able to read them aright. Bands of black cockatoos flew 
overhead, screaming harshly as they made their way inland 
to the shelter of the timber. From afar sounded the dull 
thunder of the breakers on the bar of the Bat River. From 
the ground right at Heritage’s feet a cricket chirped sud- 
denly, shrilled, and died to silence. 

The stout man thrust his head through the kitchen window 
and volunteered grumblingly, “ They’s a storm coming up. 
Thought the weather was too fine to last, anyway. Hear 
them frogs on the swamp there? Sure sign of rain that. 
Well, let her come. You don’t happen to know where Jean 
stowed them cold doughnuts, eh? No, I thought not.” 

He disappeared once more and Heritage heard the rattle 
of tea-cups. He went along to his 100m with a thoughtful 
face. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A T the first sign of rough weather Pete Diamond made 
hurried inspection of his tents. He drove the tent 
pegs still deeper into the ground, tested the guy ropes, 
and cleaned out the gutters. Then from a little heap of 
kindling wood he carried enough under cover to last a couple 
of days. His harness he stowed away on a pole swung 
below the ridge of the second tent, covering it with bags as a 
further protection from the damp. He knew from experi- 
ence that the driving sleet, which invariably accompanied a 
southwesterly squall, had a trick of finding its way through 
the most carefully constructed shelter. 

At one end of his sleeping tent was built a bark chimney. 
Here Pete lit a fire and swung a couple of billies. Pup, the 
kangaroo dog, lying by the side of the bunk, watched the 
proceedings of his master with grave understanding eyes. 
At Pete’s call he rose and padded softly up to him. The 
soreness of the dog’s feet had quite gone. As if boasting of 
the fact he raised his fore-paws from the ground and rested 
them on Pete’s knee. The cattleman laughed gently. 

“ She’s a wonderful girl, ain’t she, old dog? Fixed them 
raw pads of your’s better’n any vet. She thinks a whole 
heap of you.” 

He took Pup’s head between his two hands and looked 
whimsically into the steady brown eyes. 

“ That’s jess what she does for me too, Pup. Heals me 
when I’m all sore and nasty. Why, a man jess couldn’t go 
wrong with a girl like her watching him and loving him. 
I dunno why she does — a mean quarrelsome cuss like I 
always been. She does though. And me and you are going 
to show her she ain’t mistaken about us, ain’t we? We’re 
going to be kind of good and respectable, so far as folks ’ll 
let us. And listen, they’s no one on God’s earth is going 
to hurt her the least mite, while me and you are around to 
watch her. Not that they’s any fear of it. They’d be no 
one mean enough to try and hurt a good girl like Jeannie. 
If they was, God pity them when you and me found out.” 

131 


132 


TIMBER WOLVES 


The dog dropped his paws to the ground with a little 
whimper. His big, luminous eyes never left the man’s face. 
It seemed he understood perfectly each word that his master 
uttered. 

Outside the wind was steadily rising. Presently there 
came a gust that set the canvas walls bellying madly. It 
passed on, and a few heavy drops of rain spattered overhead. 
They too ceased. In the momentary lull which followed, 
the pounding of the waves along the foreshore sounded in- 
creasingly menacing. Pete rose from his seat and tied the 
flap of the tent securely in place. First, however, he scanned 
the blackening skies with anxious gaze. 

“ It’s going to be a bad night, Pup. Wind’s gone right 
slap-bang round to the southwest since mid-day. That surf 
on the coast means surf enough by morning to smother 
a house.” He threw a pinch of tea into one of the spluttering 
billies and swung it off the flame. Dipping out a cup of the 
liquid he set it aside to cool. Then, reaching down a couple 
of mutton chops from a bag safe swinging from the tent pole, 
he speared them on the prongs of a gum stick and began 
to grill them over the fire. When they were ready he 
dropped them on to a tin plate and settled himself to eat. 

As the meal proceeded Pete began again to talk to Pup 
in the half musing, wholly earnest manner of his kind. He 
had the bushman’s habit of talking aloud to his animals : 
a God-given habit which has preserved the sanity of more 
than one lonely soul deprived, by circumstance or necessity, 
of the companionship of his fellows. From time to time 
Pete threw scraps of the food to the dog, who sat on his 
haunches by the side of the bunk, his ears pricked expectantly 
In the dancing light of the fire the short, copper hued coat 
of the big animal gleamed like burnished gold. 

“ They’s them that say a man that’s fond of dogs and 
horses most always is cruel to women. You and me know 
that ain’t so. It’s one of them things folks repeat without 
bothering to know what they’re saying. Where would you 
find bigger pals anywhere than you and me, eh, old boy? 
Yet both of us would die a thousand times before we’d do 
or say even the tiniest mite to make Jeannie sad. Ain’t 
that so? They’s some men now, Frame maybe, or Slum 
Garraway, or Rebner and Login, that you wouldn’t trust too 
far. We don’t like them four, eh? We know what they 


TIMBER WOLVES 


133 


are. Rebner and Login now — they ain’t a man between 
the two of them. Only we got to keep in with them a little 
while longer because they ain’t anything else we can do. 
Once we shake them off though, we’re going to hit a trail 
of our own, you and me and the little girl. Them fellows 
are bad right through to the wish-bone, ain’t they? Watch 
’em out, old dog ! ” 

The animal raised his head with a low, deep-chested growl. 
Pete laughed, but seriously. “ That’s right, boy. Talk to 
’em that way and they’ll leave you alone. They’s many 
Christians ain’t got half the sense you got. You remember 
them fellows I jess told you of. They ain’t friends of ours 
— or Jeannie’s.” 

Pete dropped to the ground beside the dog and threw an 
arm about the slender neck. 

“We got to be able to tell our friends from our foes, ain’t 
we? We know what Garraway and his crowd are. But 
they’s Jeannie and her mother and dad. I can hear your 
tail go flop every time I say the little girl’s name. If you 
was ast why you done that you couldn’t say, old man, 
but I can tell you. It’s because they ain’t any one in all 
the world that loves you as much as Jeannie does . . . 
unless maybe it’s me.” 

Pup’s growling had ceased. He turned his head and tried 
to muzzle the big hand that rested on his shoulder. Pete 
pulled his ear playfully. 

“ You know it. And they’s Peggy Adaire and . . . listen, 
Pup, we got a new friend maybe. This Jack Heritage don’t 
seem half a bad sort. Jeannie likes him, and I reckon 
you can’t go better’n that. They ain’t anything in the world 
so sure of the truth than the instinct of a good woman. 
What’s ailing you, old man ? ” 

The dog was on all four feet, sniffing at the air uneasily. 
At the words he ran to the door of the tent. Suddenly he 
stiffened and his whine changed to a rumbling growl. 

The cattleman rose to his feet and threw a quick glance 
around the tent. Apparently satisfied, he resumed his seat 
by the fire, his eyes fixed on the flap of the tent. Pup 
answered his call reluctantly. Pete put his hand caressingly 
on the alert, beautifully balanced head. 

“ That ain’t your stranger bark, old boy. It’s some one 
coming that you know. You don’t like him though. If 


134 


TIMBER WOLVES 


you could talk, you’re that cute I believe you could say his 
name before you see him. Well, if he’s bound this way 
I suppose we’ll soon know. It ain’t a night to be out in, 
anyway. Hear that ? They’s some one hollering out ! ” 

He went to the door of the tent and threw open the flap. 
As he did so a form loomed out of the darkness and came to 
a pause. At the sound of Login’s voice the dog broke into 
a threatening snarl. Pete caught him swiftly by the scruff 
of the neck and held him so, pressed against his knee. 

“ That you, Pete ? River’s up and the boat line’s all 
busted to glory. I thought maybe I could make them hear 
at the punt, but you can bet that old Williams ain’t listening 
a night like this. I seen your light and come along for your 
bottle horn. Tie that damned mongrel up, can’t you. He 
hates the sight of me.” 

“ Don’t try to kick at him then,” said Pete shortly. “ As 
for Pup being a mongrel, you can take it from me, you ain’t 
half as good a man as Pup is a dog. Why ain’t you kind to 
animals? They’s not a brute at the Ferry that don’t snap 
at you when you pass.” 

Login had pushed past and was now crouching in front 
of the fire, his dripping hands outstretched to the heat. He 
was wet through and shivering with cold. In the dancing 
light of the flames his big, flat face showed an expression of 
sullen rage, and his squinting eyes glinted viciously. 

“ You might be a parson, the way you preach. I hate 
dogs. I always did. Anyhow, they’s no need to get snake- 
headed about it.” 

Pete tied the still snarling dog to a rail of his bunk before 
he replied. True to his new-found control he bit back the 
sharp retort which sprang to his lips. 

“ They’s no sense quarreling, Tom. How’d you come to 
be along this way on such a night ? I thought you was back 
with Garraway ! ” 

“ I been along to Elbow Ridge,” said Login, grumblingly. 
He stood upright and peeling off his dripping coat held it 
against the flames. “ I rode up there after dinner to-day, 
and turned my horse loose in the angle by the south wall. 
When I come to get him again the brute had trod down the 
rails and gone. I followed his tracks near as far as Pung’s 
Crossing; and then I see the storm coming up and made 
back home.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


135 

Pete had resumed his seat. He pulled a clasp-knife from 
his pocket and began to shred some plug tobacco. 

“ That was hard luck. Them rails want fixing again. 
We’d better see to it. What took you to the Ridge ? Seems 
to me when they’s all this talk of the police, that it ain’t 
over wise to give any one a line on to what’s doing.” 

He filled his pipe slowly and lit it with a burning twig. 
When he spoke again his tone was more thoughtful. 

“ I ain’t over easy the way folks come around now-a-days. 
Well, it don’t trouble me much, after all. This season sees 
me out. Here, Pup, you set right there on your feet. They 
ain’t no one going to hurt you. Down, old boy.” 

Login was squinting at him curiously. “ You’re meaning 
to pull out then? I hear some talk of it before, but I ain’t 
believing it. And now you say it yourself.” 

“You got any reason why not?” asked the cattleman 
easily. Before his steady gaze Login’s eyes fell away. 

“ I don’t give a curse what you do. They’ll be the more 
for the rest of us.” 

“ I’m real glad you see it that way,” said Pete, with the 
ghost of a smile. “ All the same, if you take my advice you’ll 
drop the whole business. They’s nothing to it.” 

Login twisted his face round with a sneer. 

“Turning religious, ain’t you? Well, you know your 
own business best.” 

“ I reckon I ought,” said Pete. The gibe passed him by 
harmlessly. Twelve months back his volcanic temper would 
have tempted him to swift resentment, yet now he smoked 
on unmoved. Only the dog tied to the bed-rail, sensing the 
antagonism in Login’s tones, whined uneasily. 

The big cattleman watched the play of Login’s coarse 
features with a little amused smile lifting the corners of his 
fine mouth. He read this man like an open book; knew 
every twist and turn of the cruel brain behind the flat face; 
understood each shifting movement of the wide-set eyes. 
He knew just exactly the reason for Login’s growing care- 
lessness to avoid ofifense, the studied insolence of his manner, 
the almost contemptuous curtness of his speech. Because 
of Pete’s yielding to the redeeming influence of his love for 
Jean Salter, his patient curbing of those qualities which had 
made him feared and respected by such characters as Rebner 
and Login, in answer to the unspoken wishes of this girl who 


136 


TIMBER WOLVES 


had come into his life, his standing with the wilder spirits 
along the coast had weakened sensibly. They no longer 
stood in awe of his great strength, his swift unreckoning 
punishment of aught that offended. Knowing nothing of 
the real reason for the change which puzzled even the cattle- 
man himself, they had come in time to believe that his man- 
hood was weakening to the growing insolence of their always 
resentful recognition of his authority. 

Strangely enough the knowledge disturbed Pete but little. 
With the strong man’s contempt of his foes he cared nothing 
for what the future might bring, trusting to his strength and 
resourcefulness to defend himself and his friends should the 
occasion arise. That trouble was brewing he felt instinc- 
tively. Now that he had come to see things with Jean Sal- 
ter’s eyes he could not forbear a smile of pride to note the 
absolute sureness of her judgment. He remembered the 
very words she had used to describe Login and his friends. 

“ It isn’t as if they had to be bad, Pete,” she had said. 
“If you know what is meant by environment, you can only 
admit that we could wish no better spot than this from 
which to draw something of the love and charity of life into 
our own hearts and minds. Surely none could be better 
placed than we, right here on nature’s playground, with 
everything about us sweet and clean and beautiful, just as it 
left God’s hands ; none of the crowding and bitterness of the 
cities, the dirt and squalor of existence that leaves its mark 
upon us in spite of all we can do; nothing but fine open 
skies and sweet- smelling heather, the music of the birds, 
the sighing of the wind among the great trees, the fresh, 
clean scent of the earth. Oh, Pete, how beautiful it all is ! 
And at night, when the plains are flooded with darkness and 
quiet, and only the rustling of the bush and the far-off 
murmur of the sleeping ocean comes to remind us of the 
world around, how near we seem to understanding what God 
really intended us to be. No, Pete, these men are better 
served than most. They act as they do because they are 
mean by nature, so mean that they hate a decent action for 
its own sake. No one could go their way for long without 
being the worse for it. Gus Rebner and Login — yes, and 
Garraway, for all his better education and opportunity, are 
like that. They would sell your friendship to-morrow, if 
the devil bid high enough.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


137 


Pete’s smile grew wonderfully tender as he listened to the 
echo of her words. Bless the little woman, how she loved 
all that was good and clean and beautiful. How even her 
very thoughts had power to purge the grossness from him 
and bid him seek the deeper meaning of existence. How 
often would she cry to him, when as yet he had not learnt 
to understand the exquisite unselfishness of her passion for 
right doing : “ Clean hands, Pete ; always with clean hands. 
What can anything matter so long as we can say that when 
the end comes. Purple and silk can hide foulness unspeak- 
able, but rags have graced many a saint. Riches there are, 
and power, and wisdom ; but happiness can only come of a 
clean and contented heart.” 

Login had been staring moodily at the fire. Now he rose 
to his feet with a muttered oath at the rain still beating 
steadily on the canvas overhead. 

“ I reckon I won’t wait any more. Lend me your bottle 
horn. I’ll leave it for you by the windlass this side.” 

“ You won’t bunk here? ” asked Pete, quietly. 

“ With that brute of a dog free to sniff around me all 
night, you bet I won’t. I don’t mind a loan of a bluey 
though, if they’s one to spare.” 

He resumed his half dry coat and slipped into the bluey 
which the cattleman handed to him silently. At the door 
of the tent he looked back a moment. 

“ Get rid of that damned dog, will you ? Well, solong ! ” 

Pete stood awhile looking after him as he went squelching 
away into the darkness. Then he fastened the flap of the 
tent and threw loose the cord about Pup’s neck. The dog 
had not offered to move on Login’s departure, nor had he 
growled. Pete saw, however, that the hair on his nape was 
slightly raised and his teeth showing in a kind of fixed snarl. 
The big fellow patted the animal affectionately. 

“ Feeling bad, eh, old boy ? He ain’t a man’s bootlace, 
but you and me ain’t telling him so jess yet, are we? Not 
quite ready, eh? But one day soon we’re cutting loose, 
ain’t we, Pup? Lord, listen to that. They’s another squall 
coming up. They’ll be some way on the river to-morrow, 
if this lasts.” 

In this Pete was right. When he turned out next morning 
the rain had certainly ceased, but the lowlands were flooded 
and well-nigh impassable. He found Tick and Tack stand- 


138 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ing disconsolately on a knob of high ground overlooking the 
swamped pasture. With a little maneuvering he caught 
Tack and leading him back to the tent saddled up carefully. 

All the morning he rode up and down between the sand- 
hills, turning off here and there into the hollows in search of 
bogged cattle. He found one such on the edge of a lagoon, 
bogged to the tail in a thick, slimy quicksand. The poor 
animal turned big pitiful eyes on him as he rode cautiously 
up. For a little time he labored to release it, yet knowing 
all the time that his effort must be fruitless. In the end he 
unsheathed the skinning knife on his belt and pithed the 
animal with one skillful, downward stab. Before he rode 
on again he noted in a little book the color, brands and 
markings of the dead beast for reference to his owners. 

For three years or more Pete Diamond had been in charge 
of this portion of the coast run, which was leased from the 
Crown by a syndicate of butchers down south. From it, in 
the spring, more than a thousand head of cattle were 
mustered, put across the Bat River in drafts of a hundred, 
and traveled by easy stages to the fattening paddocks on 
the hills above Green Valley, there to qualify for the require- 
ments of the market. At mustering times the owners them- 
selves invaded the runs. Then, for days at a stretch, the 
quiet coastlands echoed to the sound of cracking whips and 
bellowing stock, and the hoarse persuasions of men and dogs. 
Between whiles, however, Pete rode his range unaccom- 
panied save by Pup, who came of a breed not adapted for 
working with cattle. The big kangaroo dog spent most of 
his time on the hunt, speeding tirelessly across country 
after his quarry until he had achieved a kill, or driven it 
within range of the shot-gun which Pete occasionally carried 
with him on his rounds. 

About mid-day the cattleman topped the crest of a long 
knoll overlooking portion of the still churning beach. One 
glance was enough to show him that the sands were im- 
passable. He had indeed already guessed as much, yet 
wished to be certain, so that he could turn the cattle inland 
as he went, driving them free of the dangerous portion of the 
coast before night-fall. 

To Pete the aspect presented by the foreshore immediately 
after a southwesterly gale was nothing new. For all that, 
he could never quite escape the fascination of the sight. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


139 


From where he sat his horse the ground dropped steeply 
away to the fringe of stunted, wind-blown tussocks marking 
the beach proper. On ordinary occasions one could see well 
beyond the stretch of gleaming sand that ran to meet the 
gray-blue ocean whose waters swept the horizon. Now, 
however, the beaches were hidden by a dirty, pock-marked 
foam that rose and fell with every motion of the angry tide. 
Far as the eye could see the foam lay piled along the shore- 
line, climbing the scarred walls of the sandhills and thrusting 
fingers of yellow spume into the nooks and crannies of the 
rocks. In places the foam was fifteen and twenty feet deep ; 
a blanket of shuddering gray evil that masked the treacherous 
quicksands underneath. For a day or more it would hold 
thus, sinking reluctantly inch by inch to the pressure of the 
wind and the incessant drag and slurry of the tide, until the 
shore became clear of all but a thin, soapy film through 
which the white and yellow sand gleamed dully. Not until 
then might it be safe for the passage of man or beast; for 
the ever-shifting debris sucked downwards in a giant’s grip, 
the while it span a devil’s wreath of twisted seaweed about 
the gasping body of its victim. 

Pete Diamond’s eyes leisurely followed the curve of the 
coastline to where a faint blue line of white showed against 
the dark underground of the hills on the further side of 
Pung’s Crossing. At that point the beach narrowed to a 
mere thread of pathway, and the tea-tree swamps crept down 
to the very edge of the ocean itself. In fine weather the 
passage was sound enough. Even after a heavy squall it 
was sometimes found to have yielded nothing of its firmness. 
Yet one could never be quite sure. There were times when 
Pung’s Crossing turned into a thing of horror, a fimbriated 
film of opalescent beauty spread thinly above a hell of 
churning slime. Because of its vast treachery the place was 
shunned except at times of desperate emergency. For the 
most part men followed the west coast track by the longer 
yet infinitely safer route through the timber at the head of 
the swamps. Pete Diamond was one of the few having 
intimate knowledge of Pung’s Crossing. Since it marked the 
western limit of the run he had frequent occasion to visit the 
spot, and grew in time to learn something of its moods. 

This time, however, he did not approach it. Instead, he 
turned off inland until he reached the plains and there rode 


140 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the fence line looking for breaks in the wire. About three 
in the afternoon he returned to camp. A surprise awaited 
him. Pinned to a wall of the tent was a scrap of paper. 
The cattleman grinned a little to recognize the sprawling 
characters of Charley Salter. The note was brief. 

“ I come to see you about the first time in two years,” 
the stout man had written, in plaintive strain, " and bust 
me, Pete, if you ain’t away from home. Jean says to come 
right along jess as soon as you can. They’s something doing, 
but I ain’t to say what it is. She’ll tell you herself. By 
gum, and didn’t the storm hit things up last night? They’s 
hardly enough left of the Ferry cable to tail a whip. I got 
Sadie Williams to row me across in the dingy. You’d best 
do the same. I’m leaving you a horse at the Ferry house. 
P.S. — She says to be sure bring the dog.” 

Pete’s black eyes sparkled with pleasure as he read. He 
called to Pup. “ Me and you has got an invite, old man, 
that I wouldn’t swap for a pass into Guvm’t House. We’ll 
clean up right away. Now ain’t that a girl, eh, to know we 
was feeling lonely and hand us out a smile-raiser like this ? ” 
The animal barked excitedly and the big cattleman laughed. 
“ I b’lieve you understand most every word that’s said to 
you. Well, let’s go ahead with things.” 

A little later he set forth for the Ferry landing, Pup fol- 
lowing soberly at heel. The punt was moored to the home 
bank. Pete could see that the cable was intact, in spite of 
Salter’s melancholy assertion to the contrary. At times the 
stout man’s per fervid imagination got the better of him and 
he lapsed into unashamed exaggeration. 

The river was running a banker, but there was a comfort- 
ing absence of driftwood upon its broad, swift-flowing sur- 
face. Pete hunted about till he found the bottle horn which 
he had lent overnight to Login. In answer to the long, 
booming notes that he conjured from out its hollow interior, 
the flutter of a skirt showed suddenly amongst the bushes 
beyond the far landing. Pete cooeed and waved his arms. 
In response Sadie Williams came to the edge of the water 
and stood thus a minute regarding him. Then with a little 
gesture of recognition she climbed on to the punt and, 
slipping free the strap which held the windlass, began to 
wind the unwieldy craft across the stream. 

“ Punt’s harder to manage, but a good deal safer than the 


TIMBER WOLVES 


141 

dingey in a sea like this,” panted the girl, five minutes later 
as Pete and the dog stepped on to the foot-board. Sadie’s 
face was scarlet from exertion. As she spoke she let go the 
handle of the windlass and sat flat on the decking. “ I 
reckon you can wind yourself back. I ain’t paid for this sort 
of thing.” 

The cattleman smiled his thanks as he began his task. 
“ I know, I know, Sadie. I jess hate to trouble you like this ; 
but I had to cross somehow, and they’s no getting near the 
bar. Where’s all the men folk got to? This ain’t a girl’s 
work. What’s your dad doing that he ain’t on the job him- 
self ? Sick, maybe ! ” 

Sadie shook her red head angrily. The tone of her voice 
was unaccountably sullen. “Sick! Not he. He’s never 
sick. If you want to know why he ain’t here, it’s because 
Samphrey crossed his cattle the day before yesterday and the 
old man’s gone to Green Valley to cash his check for the 
ferry fees. They’s precious little of it’ll come my way. 
And look at me. Ain’t I a scare-crow? Ain’t I to have 
things like other girls now and again? God knows, don’t 
I work hard! And him down there at Hennessy’s boozing 
the money I help earn.” 

“ Who’s at the ferry house to-day? ” asked Pete, his eyes 
fixed steadily upstream in search of drift upon the spinning 
surface of the river. “ You ain’t left alone? ” 

“ They ain’t no one but me,” said Sadie wearily. “ Least- 
wise, unless you count George Judney. What he come along 
for I dunno. He jess sits there in the kitchen and drinks 
tea and don’t say two words. My, what a fine dog Pup’s 
getting!” 

She reached out her hand and patted the animal’s shining 
back. Pete smiled contentedly. 

“ He’s a oner, ain’t he ? ” His eyes suddenly twinkled 
with mischief. “ Gosh, Sadie, if big Tom Login drops in 
some day and finds Judney sitting there alongside of you, 
they’s liable to be some fun.” 

The girl tossed her head, but seemed not displeased. 

“ Him ! A fat lot I care about Login. Don’t be silly, 
Pete. Anyhow, if it comes to that, watch out for yourself. 
They was something in pants come driving along with Jean 
Salter the other day. I tells him you ain’t wanting no 
deputy.” 


142 


TIMBER WOLVES 


For a moment the cattleman eyed her blankly. Then a 
grin of understanding came on his face. 

“ Oh, you told him that, did you ? I’m obliged, Sadie. 
Only, you see, they weren’t really any need for it. They’s 
nothing doing there. That man you seen was Jack Heritage. 
He’s boarding with the Salters. I ain’t a bit jealous.” 

Sadie looked at the big fellow wistfully. “ That’s the 
funny part of you, Pete. You ought to be one of the jealous 
kind, but somehow you ain’t. You and Jean means marry- 
ing one of these days. That ain’t anything uncommon for 
young folks to do. What I don’t understand is the way 
you two believe and trust each other. You don’t neither of 
you worry; you seem to understand each other naturally 
like. They ain’t no doubt nor meanness about you. It 
must be terribly happy ... to be like that.” 

Pete made no reply for a minute or two. The cable had 
jammed a trifle and he was busy setting it right. As they 
neared the bank however, he looked up and said slowly : — 

“ Why, yes ; so it is. I couldn’t understand things any 
other way though. If you ain’t trusting now, what would 
it be like when you was married. Where you love you trust. 
And it’s only common sense after all. You jess got to trust, 
ain’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” answered the girl, dully. She seemed 
of a sudden to have become even more listless and dispirited. 

Pete hesitated in frowning perplexity. There was some- 
thing here that he did not understand. Manlike he blun- 
dered. 

“ It’s that ways with you and Login, ain’t it, Sadie ? ” 

To his dismay the girl showed evident signs of distress. 
Her face went white and her lips trembled. She did not 
reply. 

"Hie cattleman made the punt fast to the landing and 
silently helped Sadie ashore. He was feeling strangely un- 
comfortable. As they climbed the cattle drive the girl 
laughed a little unsteadily. 

“ I reckon the river made me feel sick like. It does some- 
times. You . . . you don’t need to take any notice of me.” 

The pitiful attempt at composure only served to heighten 
Pete’s wondering compassion. On the crest of the rise he 
halted and laid a hand kindly on the girl’s arm. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


143 


“ You know best, Sadie; only it kind of come to me jess 
now that you was in trouble. If that’s so, you ain’t going 
to forget your friends, are you? They’s nothing you could 
ast that I wouldn’t do gladly. Can’t I help you? What 
is it that’s worrying you? Won’t you tell me?” 

She shook her head mutely, the pallor of her face yielding 
suddenly to a flood of crimson. Before Pete’s eager, friendly 
gaze her eyes fell away almost ashamedly. 

“ Sadie ! . . . won’t you let me help ? ” repeated the big 
fellow, gently. He added quickly, “Or Jeannie? It takes 
a woman to help a woman. I ain’t meaning to butt in where 
I ain’t wanted, only it sort of hurts me to see you like this. 
Maybe you ain’t well ? ” 

The muscles of her throat quivered. “ They ain’t nothing 
wrong,” she said, in a low voice. “ I ... I reckon I won’t 
trouble you or ... or Jeannie. It’s just that I’m kind of 
. . . silly, to-day. Maybe I’ll be laughing again, when 
the . . . morning comes.” 

Pete sighed and dropped his hand. 

“ Well, you know best, Sadie.” 

“ They’s a horse behind the shed that Charley Salter left 
for you to take,” said the girl tonelessly. “ I’d have give 
him a feed, only you know they ain’t any chaff left. Gar- 
raway’s bullocks had it all.” ^ 

“ That’s all right,” said Pete. “ I guess you don’t need 
to let that worry you. You’re turning off here, are you? 
Well, good-by, Sadie. Maybe a lie down would do you good. 
You don’t want to be overworking yourself.” 

He stood for a moment looking after her, a puzzled frown 
on his big strong face. Finally he said aloud : 

“ Well, I reckon she ought to know that me and Jeannie’s 
her friends. Maybe it was only the river after all.” 

At the door of the Ferry house he ran into George Judney. 
The lank hut-keeper’s greeting left nothing to be desired. 
His brown eyes took stock of the young man with a kind of 
mournful admiration. 

“ What are you doing along here, George ? ” asked Pete. 

Judney continued to look at him steadily. “Me? I’m 
I reckon I’m here on a bit of business. Kind of re- 
juvenating my innards, as you might say, against Solium’s 
everlasting dough-balls and swill. That man’s cooking 
would annoy a wart-hog.” He hesitated a minute, pulling 


144 


TIMBER WOLVES 


at his whiskers. “ You ain’t seen Sadie around now, I sup- 
pose? I sort of thought I would ask her to make a little 
billy tea before I left.” 

Pete laughed outright. “ She jess fetched me over on the 
punt. She’ll likely be along in a while. You want some tea, 
do you ? Why, from what I can make out you been scoffing 
tea for the last half-day. Your inside must be about 
pickled already.” 

“ Well, they ain’t nothing to he-haw about,” said the hut- 
keeper, aggrievedly. “ I jess ast you, that’s all. If you was 
to have to swaller the hog swill that Solium serves up as tea, 
maybe you’d guess at my inmost feelings.” 

“Why don’t you cook for yourself then?” asked Pete 
sensibly. 

Judney snorted. 

“ Maybe I will, one day. They’s no denying Joe’s got 
his good points, but cooking ain’t one of them. And yet, 
if you’ll believe me, that man thinks they ain’t a soul on the 
coast that can hold a candle to him that ways. Where you 
going, Pete ? ” 

“To Salter’s,” said the cattleman. He eyed Judney 
thoughtfully. “ How long are you and Joe going to work 
for Garraway? Given up the prospecting altogether? Well, 
I don’t blame you for that. They ain’t much in the game, 
if you ast me.” 

Judney was looking towards the timber as if wondering 
if it was worth his while waiting any longer for Sadie and the 
tea which his stomach craved. Apparently he decided not, 
for he heaved a cavernous sigh and began to adjust his swag 
upon his shoulders, 

“ We’re staying with Garraway till we quit. Maybe if my 
rumaticks weren’t so bad we’d get busy right away fossicking 
again. As it is, I reckon we’ll stay where we are for a while. 
Well, I’ll be getting along. If I ain’t home by dark that old 
fool Solium will be getting sort of scared. He’s as fussy 
as a hen with chickens.” 

Pete hunted around till he found the horse Salter had left 
for him. As he rode away he found himself beginning to 
speculate anew as to why Jean had sent for him. Not that 
the reason could matter very much, after all. He was far 
too satisfied at the prospect of seeing her again to worry 
over the probable cause of her request. He was, indeed, 


TIMBER WOLVES 


145 


much more concerned to account for the queer behavior of 
Sadie Williams. In a way Pete was fond of the girl. In 
spite of her rough ways and almost mannish impudence, he 
knew her to be warm-hearted and steadfastly honest; alto- 
gether different, in fact, from what one might reasonably 
expect, taking into consideration the circumstances of her 
upbringing. Besides, did not Jeannie own to being fond of 
her. That in itself was sufficient to enlist the cattleman’s 
loyal friendship. 

One thing puzzled Pete greatly. He could not account for 
the red-headed girl’s evident liking for Tom Login, a man 
he distrusted utterly. Thinking now of the squat section 
boss he began to ask himself if it was possible that Sadie’s 
trouble found relationship there. Had Login been ill-using 
her, he wondered. The thought stirred him to swift anger. 
He called down to the dog racing alongside: 

“ They’s a day of reckoning for us all, they say. I ain’t 
over and above sure how I’ll come out of it myself, but I 
tell you, Pup, if Login don’t act square by Sadie he’ll get 
his all right, if I got to swing for it afterwards.” 

As he rode up to Salter’s house he saw Jean standing 
by the gate and waved his hat with a yell of greeting. 

“ You’re nothing but a big, overgrown schoolboy, Pete 
Diamond,” called the girl laughingly. ‘'Any one would 
think we hadn’t seen each other for years, the absurd way 
you go on. Well, sir, and what have you got to say for 
yourself ? ” 

The man’s black eyes softened curiously as he looked at 
her. “ What have I got to say ? Why, that you’re agetting 
more beautiful to see every time I come along. Beautiful 
and good, Jeannie. I sort of wonder sometimes if I ain’t 
jess dreaming you ... if I won’t wake up one day and find 
you gone. It ain’t understandable . . . you to love a man 
like me.” 

She shook a finger at him in mock displeasure. 

“ Fibs, Pete ; cruel fibs. I’m not beautiful, thank good- 
ness. I’m not even passably good looking, and you know 
it.” 

“ You are. To me you’re the most beautiful thing on 
earth,” Pete exclaimed eagerly. “ Jeannie, you won’t ever 
let anything come between us. You’re the only bit of God 
that I ever knew.” 


146 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Oh, boy, hush ; don’t talk like that. It isn’t right. 
Beside, you’re forgetting your mother.” 

His hand went to fondle the thick masses of tawny hair 
that rested against his shoulder. 

“I won’t say it if it hurts you, Jeannie; but you can’t 
stop thinking it. My mother’s only a memory. I never 
knew her really. But you I do know. Jess you and me 
together for always. They ain’t a thing else in the world 
that I could want. Then words Peggy sings sometimes — 
you know the ones I mean. Why, that song might have been 
made up to order of you and me. Sing it, girl.” 

“ Pete, how absurd. You know I haven’t any more voice 
than a cow. Why, when Mr. Heritage heard the noise I was 
making that morning in the clearing, the poor fellow looked 
frightened to death.” 

“ Say it then,” he commanded, wrapping a huge arm about 
her waist. 

She shook her head tantalizingly. “ I’ve forgotten it ! ” 

" Well, then I will,” said Pete. 

He began to recite ponderously: 

“ Lilac and honey-flower, 

White skies and blue; 

All the world’s a lover’s bower, 

And naught to rue; 

Just to laze the perfect days — 

We two. 

Gray eyes and tender eyes, 

Red lips and sweet; 

All my heart’s a paradise 
Here at your feet; 

To attest love confest — 

Complete. 

Jean broke into silvery laughter. “ Such a dear old senti- 
mental baby it is. School girl slush. Pete, don’t be silly ! ” 

“ Well, that’s the way I feel, anyhow,” said the big fellow, 
releasing her with a sigh of content. “ You ain’t cross with 
me, eh, Jeannie?” 

She shook her head, the warm blood flushing her cheeks. 
An almost maternal tenderness shone in her eyes. She 
patted his arm caressingly. 

“Why should I be? I’m glad you feel that way about 


TIMBER WOLVES 


147 


me. Any girl would. Oh, Pete, do look at Pup. He looks 
quite sulky.” 

Pete laughed. “ Well, you ain’t taken a mite of notice 
of him. Look at the way his ears curl into the sides of his 
face. He ain’t easy in his mind. He thinks maybe you 
don’t love him any more.” 

She bent swiftly and, catching the dog’s head between her 
two hands, kissed his smooth forehead repentantly. The 
cattleman looked on enviously. 

“Kind of waste, ain’t it?” he enquired, grumblingly. 
“ Pup ain’t able to value them kisses like he ought. Now 
if it was me . . .” 

“ You turn father’s horse loose and come into the house,” 
said Jean. “ Don’t you know that there is some serious 
business in hand ? I’m so excited that I hardly know how to 
tell you about it. How shall I begin?” 

“ At the beginning. I don’t know a thing. And I’m 
fair bursting with curiosity. You ain’t found a gold mine, 
have you, Jeannie?” 

“ I hope it will prove almost as good. We — that is, Mr. 
Heritage, the Adaires, and ourselves are going to take up a 
timber area as soon as ever we can. Pete, isn’t it grand? 
We’re going to fight Frame and Garraway on something 
like equal terms. Mr. Heritage says he is certain he can 
find enough capital to carry on with. Dad didn’t quite take 
to the idea at first, but now he’s more enthusiastic than any 
of us. You know he has always longed for a chance like 
this. We’re going to talk the whole thing over very care- 
fully and seriously. That’s why I sent for you.” 

Pete received this piece of news with a grave face. 

“ Going to buck the big fellers, are we ? That’ll take 
some doing I’m thinking.” He shook his head dubiously. 
“ I don’t want to discourage anybody, but don’t it seem like 
stirring up Providence with a three-pronged fork to get 
butting in among the talent like that. Why, Garraway’ll 
go stone crazy.” 

“ Faint heart,” taunted the girl. “ Is this Pete Diamond 
or Little Susie Chanter, from over the river, that is talk- 
ing?” 

“I’m thinking of Tas Perkins, Jeannie.” 

“ Tas Perkins ! Yes, I know he failed. Frame was far 
too clever for him. Our case is different. Fore-warned is 


1 48 


TIMBER WOLVES 


fore-armed, you know, Pete. We can start where Tas and 
the others left off. Besides, it’s purely a matter of capital. 
Mr. Heritage and father both say so. Now then, Giant 
Faint-heart ? ” 

But the cattleman still refused to smile. 

“ Jeannie, I heard yesterday that Tas Perkins was dead. 
He . . . they say he killed himself.” 

“ You don’t mean that,” she said, in a shocked voice. 
“ Oh, Pete, surely not. His poor mother. Why did he do 
it? Was . . . was it anything to do with what we have 
been talking of ? ” 

Pete’s growing anger at recollection of the bitter injustice 
responsible for the tragedy brought the blood to his face in 
a dull flush. Something of the old reckless spirit, now so 
carefully suppressed in the presence of this girl, showed it- 
self in his smoldering eyes. 

“ It had everything to do with it. Maybe Tas Perkins 
was no near friend of mine, but they was worse than him 
on the coast. Them timber folk never let up on him once. 
They hounded him wherever he went. He tried a dozen 
times to start up in his business, but they broke his credit 
every time. The end was like I told you. Tas took his 
gun and shot himself.” 

“Oh, poor fellow! How dreadful Frame and the rest 
will feel when they know. Pete, it’s wicked.” 

Pete raised both arms over his head in a sudden fierce 
gesture. “ Them feel ? They’re glad, I tell you . . . glad. 
It was Garraway told me about it in the first place. He was 
down at the river early yesterday morning. I ast him why 
they set on Perkins like they did, and how d’you suppose he 
answered me ? ‘ Shot himself, has he,’ says Slum. ‘ Then, 
by God, he done the right thing for once. It’ll teach others 
to mind their own business. They’ll be no more butting in 
after this.’ Will there not, I wonder ! ” 

He paused a moment, then resumed more quietly. 
“Jeannie, if it is only because of what Garraway said, I’m 
with your father and Heritage in this. But I go into it with 
my eyes open. I know the sort of men we’re getting up 
against. They’ll be no half measures in this fight. Now, 
jess what part did you reckon I was going to play? What 
can I do to help us win?” 

“ That’s for you men to determine,” said Jean. “ The 


TIMBER WOLVES 


149 


others are inside now, waiting for us. We’re to hold a kind 
of meeting. If we fight hard and fight fair, we’re bound to 
win in spite of them all.” 

The cattleman smiled grimly. 

“ Oh, I reckon we’ll fight hard enough. As to fighting 
fair, that mostly depends on how the other side shape. Re- 
member, we ain’t tackling no Christian Brotherhood. They 
can set the rules to suit themselves. But you can bet we’ll 
follow their lead every time.” 

“ Now you’re trying to make me cross,” said the girl. 
“ Boy, that won’t do. We can win without descending to 
the methods of Frame and Garraway. No matter what they 
do, we must play the game; then we shall have no need to 
reproach ourselves after. Clean hands, Pete; always clean 
hands. Promise ! ” 

He began to protest weakly, but she would not listen. 

“ Clean hands, Boy ! Promise me ! ” she cried insistently. 

“ Well, then I promise,” the big fellow grumbled. “ So 
far as I can I’ll side-step them. Only you want to remem- 
ber I’m only human. They’s .some things no man can stand 
for.” He began to smile in spite of himself. “ Jeannie, I 
b’lieve you could make me promise pretty near anything you 
wanted. You’re in all wrong over this thing though. If 
we don’t watch out they’ll get us for sure.” 

“ Not they. Now come along, or they’ll be wondering 
what is keeping us. Think you can leave your old cows for 
a while?” 

“ Any time the postman calls, I can get away,” said Pete, 
promptly. “You can send a letter every day, if you want 
to.” 

Peggy Adaire was waiting for them on the veranda. 
She called out laughing as they approached, “ for conspira- 
tors you are abominably lackadaisical. Jean, your father 
is wriggling like bait on a fish-hook. He’s getting quite 
irritable. He wants to be at Garraway’s throat right away.” 

“ He’ll soon ease up when he gets something to do,” re- 
marked Pete, as Peggy led the way inside. “ Well, Jack, 
how are we? You look sort of different. Maybe it’s the 
clothes you’re wearing. Where did you raise them ? ” 

Heritage smiled. 

“ Mrs. Salter scared them up from somewhere. I can 
grub around now all I want, without having to worry about 


TIMBER WOLVES 


150 

my tailor’s bill. I feel heaps more comfortable in dunga- 
rees, anyhow. Besides, we think of taking a trip through 
the bush, and it’s as well for me to be dressed for the part.” 

“ Is that so?” The cattleman dropped into a chair and 
looked soberly at Charley Salter. “ Well, I got your note. 
They’s something doing, it seems. Pull the trigger and 
shoot. I’m here to listen.” 

The stout man pointed to Heritage. 

“ It’s his idea. I’ll let him talk first. Go on, Jack.” 

In response, Heritage outlined the broad facts of his 
proposition. He dwelt particularly upon his relations with 
Frame, recounting the conversation he had had with the 
timber man prior to leaving the mainland and his recent 
meeting with Garraway. 

“ Of course, you will understand that the practical part 
of the affair is beyond my handling. When I have raised 
what capital we need, I hope to return here and place myself 
under orders. I have no doubt I shall manage to be of some 
use once I get into the way of things,” he finished. “ As 
regards Frame, I have written declining to proceed with his 
affair. In order to make the matter perfectly plain I told 
him further that it was my intention to disregard any ap- 
peal he might make for the future. I’m sorry to remember 
that I wrote rather more forcibly perhaps than was neces- 
sary. Still, it’s too late now. I should not be surprised to 
find that Garraway has already written to tell him about 
my visit.” 

Phil Adaire, resting in Salter’s easy chair, looked up with 
a little nod of concurrence. 

“ That is exactly what Garraway would do. He is a man 
who never allows the grass to grow under his feet. In that 
we will do well to imitate him. You may be quite sure that 
we shall not be permitted to put our hands into Frame’s 
pockets without protest. Mr. Heritage, what plans have 
you for the future?” 

Heritage looked at the old man rather uncertainly. 
Adaire puzzled him not a little at times. There was about 
him something almost furtive, a kind of timorous reticence 
which became more and more accentuated as time went on. 
Never communicative at any time, towards Heritage the old 
man maintained a reserve excusably hard to account for, 
considering the evident friendliness of the others. This 


TIMBER WOLVES 


151 

was, for instance, almost the first occasion on which Adaire 
had directly addressed him. His avoidance of Heritage was, 
indeed, so marked as to suggest to the young man that it 
was deliberate. He was certain that even Peggy had no- 
ticed this peculiarity of her father, and wondered at it. 

“ None as yet, Mr. Adaire. In a general way, of course, 
we know what we intend to do, but the details are hazy. 
You have a suggestion to make, perhaps?” 

“ Only that it would be wise to select one of us as leader,” 
returned the old man, quietly. “ Too many cooks, you 
know, spoil the broth. Let us choose the most capable 
among us and defer to him loyally in all things. Only by 
so doing can we hope for intelligent cooperation. I would 
like to suggest Charley Salter. Indeed, giving due respect 
to the rest of us, he is the only one possible. His experience 
is greater than ours, and he knows exactly the requirements 
of the trade. Am I right, Charley?” 

“ Well, I know a little bit,” confessed the stout man, 
obviously pleased. “ I doubt you need a younger man 
though. I ain’t so spry as I’d like to be. Jack here, or 
Pete. . . .” 

“ Ain’t candidates,” finished the last named, quickly. 
“ How about it, Jack?” 

“ Agreed,” said Heritage, with a smile. “ Mr. Salter was 
in my mind from the start. I assumed, of course, that Mr. 
Adaire would not wish to take too active a part in affairs 
owing to his ill-health. Do the ladies have a vote, by the 
way ? ” 

“ There is no opposition,” affirmed Peggy. “ Now, Mr. 
Salter, you are duly elected. Jean, we must help all we 
can. 

The stout man looked from face to face soberly. Pete 
Diamond was eyeing the ceiling, as if in search of inspira- 
tion. Adaire seemed to be wrapt in his own thoughts. He 
sat huddled in his chair, his chin in his hand, his eyes look- 
ing vacantly before him. 

“ Friends, before we come down to how and why, they’s 
jess three things I’d like to say. So far we’ve been more or 
less joking over what we mean to do. That’s right enough 
in its way, but the sooner we wake up to the fact that we’re 
entering on no picnic, the better for us. First, no matter 
what happens, keep your own counsel. The man that don’t 


TIMBER WOLVES 


* 5 * 

know when to hold his tongue is more dangerous to his 
friends than to his enemies. Second, trust no one unless 
you have to. Beyond ourselves here in the room, I know 
of no one on The Bend with ginger enough to fight Frame 
to a finish, unless it’s George Judney and Solium. Last of 
all, get it out of your heads that we can try, fail, and still 
carry on as we are now. We can’t. It’s either win out 
or get out.” 

He turned sharply to Heritage, his usually smiling face 
tense and set. His little eyes had suddenly become hard 
and calculating. 

“ Let’s have that Guv’ment tracing that Frame gave you, 
Jack.” He spread it on the table in front of him. “ Get 
your heads over this. I’m going to try to show you jess 
where I think we can come in behind Frame and crowd him 
out.” 


CHAPTER IX 


“rflHEM shaded parts on the map represent the tim- 
ber areas,” continued Salter. “ It don’t necessarily 
JL mean marketable timber; jess growing forest, 
with good and bad alike. According to this they’s nigh five 
thousand acres marked around Timber Bend. Now here’s 
a thing I don’t understand. Frame told Jack that he and 
the others owned pretty well the whole of the timber ground 
here. If that’s so, then why ain’t they but only these two 
holdings of five and three hundred acres got Frame’s name 
printed across them? Why ain’t he entered up on the oth- 
ers ? I don’t know. That’s one of the things we got to find 
out.” 

“ On the other map Frame showed Jack they was only 
two names beside his own and Slum Garraway’s. One of 
those two was Stewart. On this map, as you can see, they’s 
about fifteen names showing, each covering anything from 
one to three hundred acres. Maybe these ain’t timber hold- 
ings of any value. They may represent Crown Purchase. 
That don’t alter the fact that they don’t appear on Frame’s 
other and private map of the locality. Another thing. 
These names here ain’t familiar. Who are Strut, Adam- 
son, and McIntyre? Ever hear of them before, Pete? ” 

The cattleman shook his head. 

“ They’s no men with names like that living hereabouts, 
that I know of. Of course, I don’t know everybody 
though.” 

Salter pursed his lips. “ Well, let it go for the minute. 
Now, things seem to narrow themselves down to this. If 
we take Jack’s map here as correct, out of a total of five 
thousand acres Frame and Slum between them hold 1,200 
acres, Stewart 500, and McIntyre and the rest of them about 
2,000, which makes a total of 3,700 acres. They’s a balance 
over of 1,300 acres. Now leave out my little pocket of three 
hundred acres, say, and they’s around thousand to account 
for. Where is it? And is they timber on it that’s worth 
touching? Until we can answer those two questions we 
can’t say what we want to do. We’ve got to find land and 

i53 


154 


TIMBER WOLVES 


register it. That’s the first step. Now they’s another thing 
I want to show you. 

“ This here round dub stands for Gray Lagoon, I take it. 
Well, now, if you follow the line from east to west, it looks 
like Frame and those others hold all the frontage to the 
plains. It looks mighty like they fixed things that way on 
purpose, so as to block any outlet from the back country. 
Cunning, eh? On top of that they hold both banks of the 
Bat River for a quarter of a mile east of Gray Lagoon. So 
far as I can see now they’s no outlet we can take. Yet we 
got to find one somewhere.” 

“ In the meantime we can’t do better than slip off quietly 
and hunt out more timber. Then we lodge our application, 
and Jack here goes back home to raise what money we need 
to start. That’s his job. Without capital we can’t last a 
month. And now we got to find jobs for the rest of you.” 

The stout man settled himself more firmly in his chair 
and looked round meditatively. His eye fell on Adaire and 
he smiled suddenly. 

“ Phil, I was wondering jess what you could do to help, 
but now I know. We’re going to look to you to keep our 
books and accounts. I ain’t no lover of figgers and such 
like, but they’s times when you got to have them. Peggy, 
you can help your dad. That leaves Jean, Pete, and me. 
If I’m to act boss of this job I got to have my hands free to 
tackle things as they come. Jean’ll stay with me and kind 
of help on the odd jobs, Pete, we’ll need men later on. 
You know the folks up and down the coast as well as any of 
us. If they’s good staunch men out of work, you ought to 
be able to bring some of them into camp. Think you can 
do it?” 

“ Gimme a fortnight and I’ll lend you some of the best 
bushwhackers that ever lifted an axe,” said the big fellow, 
promptly. “ I can get the two Samson boys any time I want 
them, and Ben Sharp would come too, I think. Them three 
ain’t only good workers, they’re good fighters. And they 
hate Garraway’s worse’n poison.” 

“ Good enough,” said Salter. “ I know the breed. I’ve 
worked alongside Ben Sharp more than once. Well, we’re 
leaving that matter to you. Hunt up a half-dozen, good men 
and have them ready to come up as soon as you pass the 
word.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


155 


“ Don’t worry,” said Pete. 

He looked across at Heritage. The tones of his voice 
became suddenly alert. 

“ Jack, they’s this I’d like to say, before it’s too late, 
maybe. I take it they’s no reasonable doubt of your pulling 
off your part of the affair ? They’s a saying that a chain is 
as strong as its weakest link. Our chain is going to be 
made up of capital, hard work, and good management. If 
one of them three fail us we’re gone to the pack. If we 
don’t beat Frame, he beats us. It ain’t yourself nor me 
only, that you’ve to consider. We’re young; we can make a 
fresh start. But with the others it’s different. A smash 
for them means a smash past any mending. They got their 
homes and interests here. Me! I can hop out anywhere. 
What I ain’t got I can’t lose. And you got your other busi- 
ness across the water. I ain’t saying this jess to rile you. 
I want us all to be dead sure what we’re doing before we 
take the jump off.” 

Heritage felt the cattleman’s black eyes searching his 
face with a keenness that seemed to penetrate to the very 
core of his mind. The strange, magnetic personality of 
this man, unconscious though it was, held his wits as in a 
vice. As before, he could only return the gaze helplessly. 
At that moment he could no more have counterfeited an as- 
surance he did not feel than he could have flown in the air. 

“ Indeed, and I’ve thought of all you say,” he returned, 
earnestly. “ I can only ask you all to believe that I will do 
my best. No man can do more than that. I can and will 
raise the money we need. Even supposing all other means 
to fail I can still realise on my own private income. That is 
not much, to be sure, but the fact of my offering to pledge it 
to the interest of us all should help to prove my sincerity. 
I am heart and soul in this thing. You believe that?” 

Pete’s eyes softened. 

“ I never doubted otherwise. It was only that I wanted 
you to know how Jean and Peggy stand in the matter. You 
ain’t mad with me, eh ? ” 

“ Considering you know as little about me, I can only 
feel amazed that you treat me to the extent you do,” said 
Heritage. “ I seem quite miraculously to have fallen among 
friends. Be sure that I shall never give you cause to regret 
my acquaintance.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


156 

Quite naturally, it seemed, his eyes sought those of Peggy 
Adaire. The girl was smiling at him encouragingly. He 
told himself for the hundredth time that he would do a great 
deal to retain her confidence. 

Jean Salter broke into her jolly laugh. 

“ Mr. Heritage, I can see your hands will be full for the 
next few months. With the busy times coming, how on 
earth will you manage to continue your search for the man 
you want ? Upon my word, I do believe you have forgotten 
all about him. Confess now ! ” 

Heritage colored guiltily. 

“ You’re perfectly right, Miss Jean. As a matter of fact, 
I had forgotten Barkley, for the moment. Confound the 
man . . . and yet no, I shouldn’t say that. But for him I 
should never have come to know you all. Well, after all, I 
suppose I can keep on asking for news of him, can’t I? 
Indeed, this affair of ours will probably help me there. I 
am bound to come into touch with people more often. It 
will be strange if some one or other cannot remember the 
man. In the meantime I shall have to explain my non-suc- 
cess to my partner as best I can. I can see myself getting a 
good wigging.” 

For all the joking air with which Heritage spoke the last 
words, he felt far from satisfied with himself. Three weeks 
of continual effort to discover the whereabouts of Barkley 
or his friends had brought no result whatever. So far as 
Timber Bend was concerned the man appeared simply not 
to exist. Either Colvin’s information was hopelessly at 
fault, or else the luck had been very much against them. 
For no visible reason whatever Heritage remained obsti- 
nately convinced of the latter. More than once he had been 
tempted to widen the scope of his activities by making a 
journey up or down the coast. Yet always some strange 
reluctancy held him where he was. 

“ Well, we got some idea now of what’s wanted of each of 
us,” announced Salter comfortably, after some little fur- 
ther discussion of their plans for the immediate future. 
“ We’ll jess let Pete go round his stock and fix his belong- 
ings the way he wants them, and then you and him and me 
will go land hunting. When you come back from the main- 
land, Jack, they’ll have to be a little re-arrangement of 
quarters. If you don’t exactly object we’ll give your room 


TIMBER WOLVES 


157 

to Pete and send you along to Phil Adaire and Peggy to be 
took care of. Eh, now how’ll that suit everybody?” 

Receiving a general assurance that it would, the stout man 
rose chuckling from his seat and stumped out of the room. 
When Heritage returned to the house after having seen the 
Adaires part of their way home, Jean Salter and Pete were 
still talking earnestly together in the little sitting room. Of 
Salter himself there was no sign until tea was ready, when 
he appeared at table in more than usually garrulous mood. 

In the couple of days during which they waited Pete 
Diamond’s disposal of his affairs, Heritage seized the oppor- 
tunity to make himself familiar with some of the country 
about The Bend. He paid a second visit to Garraway’s 
camp; refraining, however, from seeking a further acquaint- 
ance with the big manager. Accompanied by Charley 
Salter he visited Gray Lagoon. Together they made the 
trip along part of its flat, mud-covered shore, here and there 
testing the depth of the water, and scanning carefully the 
couple of small creeks that fed it from the swiftly flowing 
Bat River to northwards. On the third morning Pete re- 
turned from the coast, and the stout man declared himself 
ready to lead them on a still hunt through the bush. 

“ So’s not to advertise ourselves we’ll get away at night,” 
he said. “ I’ve told the girls to give out that we’ve gone 
fishing, if any sticky-beaks get to asking why we ain’t visible 
no more. You can bet them gooseberry eyes of Garraway’s 
ain’t missing too much.” 

Crossing the plains in the faint light of the stars was no 
great hardship, but once within the shadow of the big timber 
the traveling became much more difficult. The stout man 
lumbered cheerfully in the lead, whistling softly and not 
very tunefully as he went. Pete went next in turn, his 
kangaroo dog treading softly at his heels. Heritage, as be- 
came his inexperience, brought up the rear. For him, at 
any rate, the journey soon began to lose its attractions. In 
spite of the utmost caution he found it almost impossible to 
avoid petty disaster. Jagged limbs stabbed at him from the 
blackness as he passed ; obstacles met his feet at every step. 
The twisted undergrowth swept down upon him from all 
sides, catching in the fastenings of his leather leggings, tear- 
ing the hat from his head, rasping his bare skin unmerci- 
fully. Once he missed his footing and tumbled headlong 


TIMBER WOLVES 


158 

into a bed of nettles. Pete hauled him out by the legs and 
set him upright with an admonishing chuckle. 

“ You want to chuck up your feet a little higher. This 
ain’t any pavement to slide along on like you do in the cities. 
Your legs tired? ” 

“ They’re falling off,” said Heritage, ruefully. 

Pete laughed unsympathetically. 

“ That’s how it would feel. Bush walking, especially at 
night, takes getting used to. You’ll get into the way of 
things after a time. Lord save us, don’t shoulder your axe 
like that. Was you toting it that way when you done your 
high dive into the nettles ? ” 

“Well, why not?” asked Heritage, feeling tenderly of 
his bruises. “ Certainly I carried the axe on my shoulder. 
It’s the easiest way, isn’t it ? ” 

“ But not the safest,” the cattleman assured him, solemnly. 
“ It’s a merciful thing you ain’t carved yourself into little 
pieces. With your axe like that it’s a hundred to one you 
catch the blade as you come down. Hold it close up to the 
head, your arm hanging and the blade laying flat. Then 
if you fall the edge is away from you.” 

The stout man was calling impatiently from the gloom 
ahead, and Pete walked on. More cautiously now than ever 
Heritage followed the smudge of denser shadow which he 
knew to be the cattleman’s broad back. Presently, as time 
passed, a pale effulgence began to penetrate the bush, broad- 
ening to a silver radiance, as the moon climbed up behind 
the trembling fretwork of limbs outlined against the clear 
sky. With the coming of the light the vast forest seemed to 
waken all at once. Strange rustlings sounded around and 
beyond, there came the echo of stealthy feet, the crackle and 
snap of breaking twigs under the passage of some four- 
footed denizen of the undergrowth. A possum screamed 
suddenly in the distance. Hardly had the sound died away 
than something sprung from the ground almost beneath 
Heritage’s feet. For a second he was startled. Then he 
recognized Pete’s dog, and gave a sigh of relief. A little 
later Salter called a halt. 

When Heritage came up with the others he found himself 
in the center of a tiny natural clearing. On the far side 
was a narrow gutter of trickling water. The ground was 


TIMBER WOLVES 


159 

criss-crossed with fallen spars and carpeted thickly with 
ferns and mosses. 

The stout man lowered his pack to earth with a tired grunt. 

“ I ain’t as young as I was, seemingly. I’m old and fat. 
Either of them things is fatal, and I got them both. Jack, 
never get old or fat. It don’t pay.” 

Pete was already clearing away the rubbish around them, 
throwing it back so as to leave a circle of clear ground on 
which to make camp. Salter picked up a slash-hook and 
beckoned to Heritage. 

“ I can guess you’re feeling sore, but we got to fix our- 
selves as comfortable as we can,” he observed. “ If you 
gather the fern as I cut it, we’ll rig our beds in a jiffy. 
Pete’ll light a fire and set the billy. We’ll all rest better 
after a bit of a snack.” 

Afterwards, as he lay on his improvised mattress, his 
head resting on a rolled-up bluey and his feet outstretched 
to the fire, Heritage began to wonder if his agreement with 
the stout man’s affirmation had not been too precipitate. In 
spite of his aching limbs sleep was never farther from him. 
The novelty of his situation took hold of him and for a 
while he let his thoughts run riot. Gradually the fire burnt 
down, leaving only a pile of glowing cinders. The sounds 
from the bush became less frequent. A touch of frost 
crept into the air. Heritage pulled the blanket closer about 
him and shut his eyes resolutely. When next he opened 
them he was surprised to find it was broad daylight. 

Pete Diamond, bending over the fire, looked over at him 
with a grin. “ I thought you was never going to rouse. 
Ready for your breakfast? Charley’s gone prospecting for 
Frame’s south-west corner. We start in from there. Can 
you eat cold boiled bacon ? ” 

Heritage rose stiffly to his feet. He sniffed the air hun- 
grily. “ I could eat a horse. Here’s Mr. Salter now.” 

The stout man was beaming with satisfaction. 

“ Well, I found it all right,” he declared. “ Considering 
the dark we made out fairly well. What’s that ? ” 

Hitherto the going had been fairly mixed, patches of 
scrub-land alternating with strips of plain and little open 
glades similar to that where they were camped. Within 
half an hour of starting afresh, however, Heritage was in 


i6o 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the very heart of the forest proper. Everywhere about 
them was a riot of vegetation which flowed onwards in a 
tide of gleaming green. The air was full of a sharp pene- 
trating odor ; the not unpleasant scent of the gums mingled 
with the dank vegetable smell of decaying mold. High 
overhead the great spreading tops of the gums reached one 
towards another, in places their huge limbs interlocking as 
if in deadly strife. Here and there the smooth or calloused 
trunks were hung with festoons of matted creeper, or draped 
with swaying tentacles of bark that vibrated harshly when 
the wind was high. Through all filtered the rich sunlight, 
filling the depths of the bush with soft pulsing radiance. 

At mid-day they halted for lunch on the crest of a rise. 
Noting the cool prospect presented by the ferns in the gully 
below, Heritage could not forbear commenting on the stout 
man’s choice of a camp. 

“ Wouldn’t it be much cooler down there?” he ventured, 
wiping away the perspiration which trickled down his face. 

“ Merskiters,” said Salter, laconically. 

“ Besides which,” supplemented Pete, glancing sympa- 
thetically at Heritage’s crimson face, “ you’d find it a good 
deal more trying than it is here. They ain’t a breath of 
air in the gullies. It ’ud be like an oven. And another 
thing is that we keep our bearings better by sticking to high 
ground.” 

Salter was referring to his map. 

“ I’m leading well clear of the patch of land I found be- 
fore,” he explained. “ I know the bearings of that quite 
well enough to describe on the application. It’s new coun- 
try that we want.” 

He sent his eyes over the prospect before them and 
grunted sourly. “ Ain’t anything here worth noticing, eh, 
Pete? I’ll bet Garraway’s been along this way some time 
or other. Some one’s tried a chip in that big stringy over 
yonder. I don’t wonder at him taking it for a paling tree. 
Most always that red streak in the dark shows a splitter. 
You see the tree I mean, Jack?” 

Heritage nodded. 

“ That other tree close to it — the small one with dark 
green leaves, isn’t that a beech? I’ve seen the kind before; 
in Gippsland, I think it was,” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


161 


“ It is and it ain’t/’ said Salter, with a swift appraising 
look in the direction indicated. “ Here in Tassie we call 
them myrtles, though they’re beech right enough on the 
mainland. We got names of our own for things this side 
the straits. If you don’t want to get tangled up you’ll have 
to learn some of them.” 

“For instance?” suggested the young man. 

“ Well, I’ve jess told you that we call your beech, myrtle. 
Hazel we call dog-wood ; your dog-wood we call merry weed. 
Why merry, the good Lord only knows. The man that finds 
that stuff growing on his bit of a farm don’t feel particular 
merry, I can tell you. It’s worse to get rid of than origi- 
nal sin. We got names of our own even for some of the 
animals. For instance they ain’t no wombats here; we call 
them badgers. And so on. You’ll get to know them in 
time.” 

“ I suppose so,” said Heritage, doubtfully. 

Salter looked about him again with a return to his former 
discontent. 

“ This country would break the heart of an ox. I doubt 
we’re going in the wrong direction after all. Not a sign 
of what we want.” 

His ill-humor caused Heritage to eye him in astonish- 
ment. He caught the look and smiled slowly. 

“ You’re judging the timber by the size of it, ain’t you, 
Jack? Well, you can no more do that than you can judge 
the quality of land by the class of scrub it grows. Some- 
times you hit it and sometimes you don’t. Nature’s about 
the most inconsistent cuss that ever was. She’ll grow a 
first-class scrub on country that ain’t worth a last season’s 
wood bug; and she’ll cover potato land with a mess of sag, 
sword-grass and gum sticks that you’d swear wouldn’t grow 
nowhere but on the edge of the plains. That timber in front 
of us, for instance, would be all right if it wasn’t for half 
a hundred objections. It’s fluky to start with. Then nine 
out of ten of the stringys are hollow (tap some of them 
with the axe and listen to the sound). And, to cap the lot, 
what you’re taking to be blackwood ain’t blackwood at all. 
No, sir it’s pencil- wood. If you still ain’t satisfied, look at 
the level we’re on, in spite of being higher than the gullies. 
Valley timber ain’t any good; it’s too warpy. We’ve to 


1 62 TIMBER WOLVES 

find a good high bank of country if we’re going to do any 
good.” 

“ The ground rises steadily all the way between here and 
Simmins’ Track,” said Pete, thoughtfully. “ Any one ever 
try the far side? ” 

Salter regarded him with an expression of benevolent 
amusement. “ Been there yourself ? ” he inquired. 

Pete shook his head. 

“ Neither have I,” said the stout man. “ I know plenty 
that have, though. They say so, anyway. D’you know 
what that country is? All iron-stone and shale, with about 
one tree to the acre. Good mineral country maybe, but as 
much use to a saw-miller as a phonograph to a deaf mute. 

The cattleman, however, was not so easily disposed of. 
He continued to regard Salter earnestly. 

“ That’s what they all think, Charley ; but do they know ? 
I doubt it. In spite of what some of ’em say, I don’t be- 
lieve a soul of them has been past Simmins’ Track. The 
country up to there ain’t promising, I grant you. But 
what’s on the other side? The only way to answer that is 
to go through and find out. I don’t know where else to 
look, anyhow.” 

“ And that’s a fact,” agreed Salter, gloomily. “ Well, if 
you want to go north, we’ll go north. Only don’t say I 
didn’t warn you, if you find things ain’t what you want. 
If we push ahead we ought to hit the track about nightfall. 
We’ll keep going till we do.” 

Later, when the stout man flung down his traps with a 
sigh of thankfulness and called to Pete to gather a few 
kindlings before it became too dark, Heritage reminded him 
of the assertion. 

“ I thought we were to camp on Simmins’ Track, Mr. 
Salter? Is it so very much ahead of us then?” 

“ Why, this is Simmins’, ain’t it ? ” 

“ But I don’t see any sign of a track,” protested the young 
man, gazing round, into the gathering dusk. 

“ That’s because they ain’t any to see,” said the stout man, 
easily. “ The place ain’t anything more than jess a name. 
They was a man named Simmins come through across coun- 
try from Zeehan, one time in the old days. The thing that 
saved him from getting bushed for good and all was him 
keeping to this ridge all the way. Even as it was he was 


TIMBER WOLVES 


163 


weeks getting through, and would have starved only he 
managed by a stroke of luck to knock a badger on the head. 
Pretty tough meat, I reckon; but it kept him alive. That's 
why badgers is protected by the Guv’ment.” 

After they had eaten, and the three of them were dis- 
posed comfortably around the fire, Heritage asked a ques- 
tion which had puzzled him for some time. 

" Why is it that men like Frame are permitted to hold 
so much idle country? Idle, and therefore unproductive. 
It seems to me that our legislation is sadly in need of re- 
vision. With proper supervision the supply of timber 
should be sufficient to meet our requirements for years to 
come. As things are going now, our forests are in danger 
of being denuded within a decade.” 

“ Of course,” said Salter, puffing angrily at his pipe. 
“ But what are you to do ? The Guv’ment don’t take any 
interest in the matter, beyond drawing salaries regular. I 
been years on the coast here and never remember seeing an 
inspector from the Forestry Department. No, nor ever 
heard of one being about. Down south of the island you 
may find one, but not here. And the timber wolves don’t 
care a brass button so long as the bush lasts their time, and 
the dividends come rolling in regular. Pete here is a cattle- 
man, not a bush-whacker ; yet even he knows where the shoe 
pinches.” 

“ Why, if you ast me, it certainly is the fault of the 
Guv’ment ” agreed the big fellow. “ A lot of the wastage 
would be prevented if they called for a straight-cut area tax, 
instead of fiddling about with royalties. Take Frame, for 
instance. Watch the way he works. He gets into a bed. of 
timber and picks the eye out of it. He don’t touch nothing 
but the best ; and he hauls it out to his mills and leaves the 
slash and rubbish lying on the ground jess as his men fell it. 
In a year or so they comes a fire, and up comes a forest of 
saplings that grow so close together that they never reach a 
marketable size, even though they was untouched for a 
millennium of years. What good is that country after 
Frame’s done with it? They’s tons of good timber left be- 
hind to burn or rot away. For years the land ain’t fit for 
cultivation, or even grass, because of the rubbish left on it. 
All it serves is to harbor the breeding of weeds and ver- 
min. But Frame don’t care. He’s away on ahead in his 


164 


TIMBER WOLVES 


next holding, doing the same there. Ain’t that so, 
Charley ? ” 

“ Dead right,” said Salter. “ The way I see it, they 
shouldn’t be a stick of decent timber left behind. All the 
grist should go to the mill. Talking about mills, I hope one 
day we will be able to put in a saw-mill of our own. If 
ever we get as far as floating a real on-the-market company, 
you can bet that’ll be one of the first things to do. As 
things are at present we can’t do better than jess keep to 
staves and palings, and maybe a bit of figured wood in the 
log. What’s worrying me now is to know how to get our 
stuff to the line. As far as I can see we got to cross 
Frame’s land. Yet you know that ain’t possible.” 

Evidently the problem was one that exercised the mind 
of the stout man considerably, for Heritage heard him toss- 
ing and grunting far into the night. In spite of his rest- 
less night, however, Salter was first out next morning. He 
seemed in a fever to begin the day’s work. 

It w^as early in the forenoon that they made their dis- 
covery. Pete Diamond was some distance in the lead, 
climbing the last few yards of a sharp ascent. Presently he 
found the way barred by a huge jumble of rocks strewn 
along the crest of the ridge. Scrambling to the top of one 
of these, the better to view the country ahead, he began 
waving excitedly. 

“ By gum, if he ain’t struck it,” exclaimed Salter. He 
dropped what he was carrying and began to claw his way 
upwards in panting triumph. The cattleman pointed to the 
prospect beneath them with a hand that shook slightly. 

“ Charley, if they’s one acre they’s a thousand. Look 
at it. In the name of Mike, who’d have guessed to find 
anything like this.” 

Salter answered nothing for the moment. He was star- 
ing in a kind of wonder at what he saw. Heritage, scarcely 
less excited, was trying vainly to estimate the acreage of the 
find. He ended by shaking his head in comical bewilder- 
ment. There seemed no limit to the rolling blackwood for- 
est before them. It stretched away on all sides in a sea of 
green shadow streaked with golden threads of sunlight 
where the gently swaying branches moved about the lesser 
undergrowth. 

“We’ll jess go down there and sample a tree or two,” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


165 

said Salter a little hoarsely. “If she’s sound on the edge, 
she’ll be sounder as you go in. When I turn over I sup- 
pose I’ll wake up.” 

“ I’ll wait here for you,” said Heritage. “ This is the 
hour of the expert. I’d only be in the way.” 

He might have saved himself the trouble of speaking. 
The others had left with such precipitance that it was doubt- 
ful if they had heard him at all. Heritage saw them 
scrambling down the side of the ridge and on into the scrub, 
where they were quickly lost to sight. A little later came 
the faint echo of an axe. 

Heritage found a shady corner among the rocks and 
settled down to enjoy a smoke. It seemed hours before the 
sight of Pup bounding up the bank towards him notified 
him that his friends were returning. In a little while they 
came into view, walking soberly enough and conversing not 
at all. An absurd misgiving seized him that their rejoicing 
had been premature. Salter’s first words, however, reas- 
sured him. 

“ Well, she’s there all right. You could blow me down 
with a pair of bellows. I never thought to see anything 
like it this side of Simmins’ Track. Why, it’s always been 
a kind of tradition with us folks on The Bend that they was 
nothing here but rocks, ridges, and rattle-grass, as the say- 
ing is. When Garraway hears what we’ve found he’ll be 
as mad as a New Norfolk snake. I take off my hat to Pete 
Diamond.” 

“ Meaning me,” grinned the cattleman happily. “ Keep 
your lid on, Charley. A man as bald as you didn’t ought 
to be rash. The sun might bite you.” 

Salter was tugging thoughtfully at his untidy mustache. 
Already he was immersed in calculation. 

“What say, Pete? How’ll this do to describe her? 
Bounded on the south by Simmins’ Track, north by the 
Pin-hole Valley, east by them paper-bark swamps, and west 
. . . now what in blazes do we have for our west line? 
She don’t seem to have no limit.” 

“ West by the horizon,” suggested Heritage. 

“ Well, you’re modest, ain’t you,” smiled the stout man. 
“ Why don’t we ast for a lease of Tassie, and be done with 
it ? Suppose we say west by the Bat River. She curves in 
there under the hills. We ought to have about five hundred 


1 66 


TIMBER WOLVES 


acres of the best then, not counting my little patch back 
home. It’ll do us for quite a while.” 

"If we can get it out to a market,” put in Pete, soberly. 

Salter glanced at him quickly. “ For Mike’s sake, don’t 
grouch now. We’ll find a way out all right, all right. Each 
man to his job, and maybe the brand won’t smear too bad 
after all. Let’s make a bee-line for home. We can do it 
by dark, if we look slick.” 

It was approaching dusk by the time they tapped Frame’s 
tramline on the return journey. At sight of it winding like 
a snake through the dimming bush ahead, Salter halted 
uncertainly. 

“If we follow along to Gar raw ay’s camp we make it a 
whole lot easier and shorter walking. On the other hand, 
do we care if any of that crowd sees us ? I leave it to you.” 

Pete glanced at Heritage who was taking advantage of the 
halt to stretch his fiercely aching body on the none too soft 
ground by the side of the rails. 

“ The shortest way’s the nearest. Let’s start a guessing 
competition for Slum and the rest of them. I’d like fine to 
tickle their curiosity.” 

“ The same here,” asserted Heritage. “If Garraway 
means to be nasty, it’s as well to know it. Besides which, 
I want to get to where I can sleep in a real bed.” 

Salter led off down the line without further comment. 
Five minutes later, however, he said plaintively, “ Well, jess 
as you like. If it comes to scrapping though, I’d like you 
to remember that I’m old and fat. I can’t run as fast as I 
used to. Lord save us, Jack, d’you remember the first time 
I seen you? The swipe you landed Jerry Summers? 
Whoof ! ... jess like that. Kind of made me love you 
right away. Your feet sore?” 

“ Heels raw,” said Heritage, grimacing. “ I shall never 
walk decently any more.” 

“ A bit of mutton fat rubbed on them when you get home, 
and you won’t know yourself by morning,” comforted Pete. 
“ Bless me, you might have had to keep walking for a week, 
if we hadn’t struck it when we did.” 

“ I should have done nothing of the kind,” retorted the 
young man. “ I should have died. Then you’d have buried 
me and gone on by yourselves.” 

Pete grinned and called softly to his dog. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


167 

“ You come to heel, Pup. I don't want none of Frame's 
men taking you for a tiger and potting your old carcass. 
You can see the fires at the camp already. Ain’t they some 
one shouting a lot ? ” 

Almost immediately Salter gave an exclamation of concern. 

“ They’s something up," he declared. “ What's all them 
men doing in front of the big hut? They’s Garraway him- 
self. Kind of seems they's a row going on." 

“ Prayer meeting," suggested Pete. He laughed as he 
spoke, but Heritage thought he noticed a sudden stiffening 
of the big fellow’s body as if he scented a less respectable 
solution after all. 

They were near enough now to see that the crowd was 
intent upon some happening within the little circle of open 
ground between themselves and the door of the mess-house. 
So engrossed were they indeed, that Pete and the others 
had pushed themselves almost to the inside edge of the circle 
before their presence was noticed. 

“ Good Lord, Solium’s been hurt," grunted Salter, catching 
a glimpse of a man’s figure huddled on the ground beyond. 

Pete said nothing, but continued to bore unceremoniously 
through the muttering crowd, regardless of the black looks 
turned on him. A big man in moleskins stepped deliberately 
in Heritage’s way as he moved after Salter. Realizing that 
it was no time to argue, Heritage, momentarily forgetful of 
his sore heels, ducked smartly beneath the huge arm out- 
stretched to bar the path and slipped past with all his old- 
time footballing celerity. The fellow spun round with an 
oath, but the darkness puzzled him and he fell back mutter- 
ing. The incident passed out of Heritage’s mind almost 
immediately. His whole attention was claimed by the scene 
before him. 

Solium Joe lay face down on the hard ground. The light 
coming from the open door of the bunk-house fell directly 
upon his huddled body. His knees were drawn up to his 
stomach and one arm was outstretched as if to protect his 
head. There was in the attitude something at once terrible 
and pathetic. 

But it was not at Solium that Heritage looked, except for 
that first swift glance. Two men were snapping words 
at each other in the crisp, deadly manner that foreshadows 
almost certain tragedy. One was Garraway, Frame’s big 


1 68 


TIMBER WOLVES 


manager, who stood on the inside edge of the swaying crowd. 
Heritage could note the forward thrust of the great bull 
head and the threatening hunch of the wide shoulders. The 
other man was George Judney, crouched cat-like across the 
motionless body of his mate. 

“ You, Judney, get out of the way. Solium only got the 
clip that was coming to him. I warned both of you more 
than once that you couldn’t run this place to suit yourselves, 
in the way you were doing, without falling foul of me sooner 
or later. I’m going to souse Joe in the creek and soak some 
of the cussed foolishness out of him.” 

Judney’s reply came swiftly on the heels of the manager’s 
big, booming voice. 

“ Talk, Slum Garraway — jess talk. I know you — none 
better, for the dirty bully you are. Maybe I ain’t but half 
your size, but you can’t scare me. The first man that puts 
a finger on Joe gets my knife in his ribs. I mean that. I 
ain’t fighting no pack of wolves with my bare hands. You 
call yourself a man, do you? And then let Joe get downed 
jess for doing a mite of kindness to them you’ve used and 
thrown out like a dry sponge after you’ve squeezed the 
health and strength outen them and rooked them of the wages 
they’d ought to get.” 

Some one had put a match to a pile of brushwood close by. 
As the flames leapt upwards they illumined the scene with a 
brightness almost equaling the light of day. From the 
shadow beyond a man’s voice called roughly: 

“ Out him, Boss ! ” 

Garraway took no notice. He was watching Judney in- 
tently. 

“ You’re talking plain rot, George. As for using that 
knife you’ve got there, I’d remind you that this isn’t any 
American lumber camp. You get to throwing weapons 
around and see what happens to you. Best get out of my 
way before it’s too late.” 

“ Hold on a minute.” The lank hut-keeper threw up his 
right hand suddenly, the wide blade of his sheath knife 
cutting a gleaming arc through the firelight. “ You keep 
where you are, Slum. I ain’t wishing to kill nobody, but I 
warn you they’s a limit to any man’s patience. You ain’t 
going to man-handle Solium no more. He’s my mate. You 
can go to hell . . . the lot of you.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


169 


There was absolute finality in Judney’s tones. Not a man 
there but knew he wasn’t bluffing, that he meant what he 
said. ^ Even Heritage unaccustomed as he was to the primi- 
tive in these men dwelling on the outskirts of civilization, 
sensed the tragedy in the melancholy voice and set his lips 
nervously. A sudden movement beside him made him look 
up sharply. Pete Diamond had stepped past him into the 
circle of firelight. The cattleman’s voice sounded clearly 
and with apparent unconcern. 

“ You ain’t including me in that doxology I hope, George? 
I’d feel kind of grateful if you was to omit your friends. 
You can slide that knife back into your pants pocket. 
They’ll be as no hog killing jess yet awhile. No one’s going 
to touch Solium.” 

Pete’s sudden appearance was the signal for a little chorus 
of recognition. Hitherto but a few had been aware of his 
presence. Slum Garraway, it seemed, had not been one of 
these. The manager eyed his new opponent uneasily. 

“Why, it’s you, Pete, is it? Now will you tell me why 
you’re mixing yourself in this business ? I’ve got no quarrel 
with you ! ” 

“ Glad to hear it, Mr. Garraway,” said the cattleman 
evenly. He turned coolly to the man at his side. 

“ What happened to Solium ? Is he hurt bad, George ? ” 

Judney answered without removing his eyes from Garra- 
way’s face. “ Bad enough, seeing they weren’t no call to 
touch him at all. Joe’s jess knocked out, I reckon. I got 
here a mite too late. The dirty hounds was only starting 
in on him. And for why, do you think ? ” 

“Tell us,” said Pete, briefly. He added: “That’s the 
idea, Charley. Get him into the hut.” 

The stout man had slipped his arms under Solium’s spare 
frame and was quietly making for the hut. Garraway 
laughed unpleasantly. 

“ It don’t matter. We can get him when we want him. 
You finished giving orders on my ground, Pete? Why look 
for trouble ! ” 

Pete smiled. “ I never look for trouble, Mr. Garraway. 
I don’t dodge it either. You ain’t surely expecting me to 
stand aside while you knock Solium about, are you? I’m 
waiting to hear what started the row. Go on, George ! ” 

Judney pointed a bony finger into the crowd. “ Archie 


170 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Gatten done it. It was Slum, though, that set him on. 
And for why? I’m telling you now. You know what hap- 
pens to one of Frame’s men when they’ve no more use for 
him. He’s told to get out, ain’t he? All right. Maybe 
that’s all you can expect. When a man’s job is through he 
can’t growl if he’s put off. But he’s got a right to draw the 
pay coming to him. Now when Slum here fires a man, it’s 
a wonderful thing how they’s lost time and lost tools, and 
Gawd knows what other rigged up charge against the little 
bit of money he’s been counting on to tide him along till he 
gets a new job. When he goes out he’s no money and no 
credit. I’ve seen it happen a score of times. You’ve all 
seen it.” 

Judney paused for breath. The sound of his heavy 
breathing was intensified by the absolute stillness of his 
audience. Not a man stirred. It was as though some 
quality in the lank hut-keeper’s accusing voice held them 
unwillingly at attention while he was speaking. 

“ It ain’t in Joe’s nature to see a man go hungry. If he 
ain’t got food of his own to give, he’ll sure root around till 
he gets hold of some one that has. And if that don’t answer 
he takes what comes to hand and passes it along to the man 
that needs it most. That’s Joe’s way. I ain’t saying whether 
it’s right or wrong. But I do know that Frame’s chuck- 
outs don’t owe him anything for the food Solium gives them 
to help them along the track. Frame’s paid himself in 
advance.” 

He paused a second time. Garraway interjected immedi- 
ately. 

“ How much more of this rot are we to listen to? You’re 
only trying to bluff your way out of a hole. It’s not the 
first time by a long way that I’ve caught you two men 
giving away the company’s tucker. I’ve warned you till 
I’m sick of it. If there were any police handy I’d give 
Solium in charge. He’s no better than a common thief.” 

“ You’re a liar,” said Judney, swiftly. 

A little tremor shook Garraway’s big body. His arms 
dropped to his sides and he took a step forward. Like a 
flash Pete Diamond stepped in front of the crouching hut- 
keeper. The cattleman’s voice came sharp and incisive. 

“ No rough-house, Slum. I won’t stand for it, I tell you. 
It’s your own fault. Let the men be, and things ’ll maybe 


TIMBER WOLVES 


171 

right themselves. I don’t want to mix it with you or any 
one, but I’ve said my say. Take it or leave it.” 

Imperceptibly the men around Garraway had drawn back 
into the crowd, so that he was left standing alone in the 
center of the little circle. With the swift intrusion of Pete 
Diamond the original cause of dispute seemed momentarily 
forgotten. With startling suddenness the affair had resolved 
itself into a direct issue between Frame’s manager and the 
big cattleman. Yet for some reason best known to himself 
Garraway hesitated to take up the challenge. Instead, he 
was moved to bluster furiously. 

“ I’ll take it when I’m ready. When I do, maybe you’ll 
feel it would have paid you better to keep your nose out 
of other folks’ concerns. Now you get off my land, and 
keep off. You and Salter and . . .” for the first time he 
looked directly at Heritage, seeming to peer at him now 
through the dusk. “ Why, there’s Mr. Heritage. I’m sorry 
to see you mixing yourself with the company you are. Well, 
you’re of an age to know your own mind. If you’ll take my 
advice though, you’ll clear out and take your friends with 
you. You’re a lawyer, you say. Well, tell this man what 
you know of the laws against trespass. By God, I’ll serve 
an injunction on the three of you.” 

Heritage had been eyeing the scene fascinatedly. Un- 
noticed he had slipped his heavy bluey coat to the ground, 
thus freeing his arms for the fracas he felt certain must 
ensue. Close behind him stood Charley Salter, his fat cheeks 
distended ridiculously, the flaring light from the burning 
bushes laying on his round, glistening skull, from which 
the hat had fallen in his passage through the crowd. 

Heritage opened his mouth to answer, but felt his arm 
gripped warningly. 

“ Keep your mouth shut,” advised the stout man, in a 
whisper. “ Slum’s only wanting to talk dirt to you. You 
notice he sent Archie Gatten off somewhere a while ago! 
Now what did he do that for? I’ll bet it was to find Login 
and Rebner. They ain’t either of them been here since we 
come.” 

At Garraway’s words the figure of the cattleman seemed 
to stiffen. He thrust his face forward belligerently. 

“ You’re acting foolish, Slum. Be satisfied with what’s 
happened, and let it go at that. We’re going right away, 


172 


TIMBER WOLVES 


if you ain’t holding anything over George and Solium. You 
was only funning, eh? You’re going to let up right now. 
That’s so, ain’t it ? ” 

Garraway was peering eagerly about him as if in search 
of some one. While he stood thus, a man worked himself 
out of the shadows and began to whisper rapidly in his ear. 
Charley Salter, whose little twinkling eyes had never left the 
manager’s face, called softly to Pete : 

“ Login and Rebner can’t be found. I’ll bet you now 
that they’s nothing doing. Slum ain’t over-sure of his men, 
but only them two.” 

Garraway straightened himself with a shrug of his big 
shoulders. He looked directly at Pete. 

“ I heard what you said. It don’t alter the facts. You 
get right off my land. I make no promise to you or any one 
else.” 

Before the cattleman had time to answer, Judney’s rum- 
bling, melancholy voice interjected: 

“ Tell him we’ll be getting offen his land, Pete, when we 
know jess where his land is.” 

“What’s that you say?” A change, subtle but unmis- 
takable, came on Garraway’s face. He peered at Judney 
intently. “ Who said that ? ” 

“ I did ! ” The lank hut-keeper slapped himself on the 
chest. “Want me to say it again? I says to Pete to tell 
you we’ll get offen your ground if you’ll show us jess where- 
abouts we’re treading on it. What about it ? ” 

“You . . . you . . .” The manager appeared to choke. 
Pete was looking at Judney in amazement. 

“ In Mike’s name, what are you driving at, George ? ” 
he said sharply. “ You can’t bluff out that way.” 

Judney was looking steadily at Garraway. His voice 
sounded suddenly confident. 

“ I’m jess advising you, Slum. This ain’t your land no 
more than it’s mine.” He waited a second; then added, 
with a curious inflexion : “Of course I ain’t saying it 
mightn’t be the Company’s. I reckon it depends on you.” 

For almost a minute Garraway hesitated in silence. When 
finally he spoke the furious anger of a moment ago seemed 
suddenly to have left him. He appeared to choose his 
words deliberately. His voice boomed coldly menacing. 

“ As you say, it depends on me. Well, here’s my last 


TIMBER WOLVES 


173 

word. You and Solium can pack your traps and get out of 
here first thing to-morrow morning. You’re sacked.” 

“We ain’t,” denied the hut-keeper. 

Garraway’s face twisted in a wicked grin. 

“ Stay on and see then. If you ain’t gone by mid-day, 
I’ll have the two of you thrown out by the ears. You’re 
sacked.” 

“ Lying again, as usual,” said Judney, unemotionally. 
“We ain’t sacked. We quit your job cold, half an hour 
ago, when you started to beat Joe up. Think him and me 
’ud stay on working for a pack of rooks like you and Frame 
and the rest of them? You’re sacked yourself.” 

With not even a glance at the manager, Judney turned 
his back deliberately and entered the hut. After a moment 
or two of bewildered silence Pete and the others followed 
him in. As Heritage went through the door he heard Garra- 
way roughly calling to his men to scatter. 

“ In the name of Mike, what did you do to Slum to make 
him twist from under like he done ? ” demanded Pete, as 
soon as they got inside. “ What’s all this bluff about the 
Company’s land, George?” 

“ Jess what you say . . . bluff,” said Judney, mourn- 
fully. “ Don’t let it worry you, Pete ! ” 

Crossing quickly to Solium’s bunk he halted with a little 
grunt of pleased admiration. 

“ Will you look at this now? Ain’t he a oner. So that’s 
why you wasn’t out with us again, Joe, after Charley brought 
you round ? You was playing possum, eh ! ” 

Solium was lying face down across his bunk. The little 
man’s wizened face was wreathed in smiles, his fingers 
twined lovingly about the ragged stock of an old shot-gun 
whose muzzle poked itself unobtrusively through a knot-hole 
in the slab wall facing the scene of a few minutes back. At 
Judney’s words he withdrew his gun and sat up on the edge 
of the bunk. 

“ I sort of thought I might hand that big blob the joker, 
if you wasn’t holding high enough yourself to cover his 
lead,” he explained, naively. “ Me? No, I ain’t hurt, bar- 
ring my head where Archie hit me. I come round most as 
soon as Charley hiked me inside. I’ve had her trained on 
Garraway ever since. Evening, gents!” 

Salter chuckled delightedly. 


174 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ You two beat the very Old Harry. You don’t want 
any nurse gal to look after you and mend your socks. Come 
on, we’ll get off home. George, you and Solium look me up 
in the morning. Maybe we can find a use for one another. 
Well, solong! ” 

On arrival at the house Heritage pleaded his aching limbs 
and betook himself to bed. First, however, motherly old 
Mrs. Salter insisted that he bathe his sore heels and apply 
some of her home-made ointment. Tired though he was he 
found it impossible to sleep. The night was warmish. 
Through the open window of his room came a gentle breath 
of air, full of the subtle fragrance of stirring spring. The 
moon had not yet risen, but in the faint light of the stars the 
plains glimmered softly as they swept onward to meet the 
black shadow of the timber belt. Away to the left hung a 
barely discernible curtain of mist, the ghostly exhalation 
from the turbid waters of Gray Lagoon. 

For a long time Heritage sat by the window looking out 
into the quiet night. His mind was a curious jumble of 
tired thought. Events of the past few hours had brought 
home to his understanding more fully than ever before the 
seriousness of the venture to which he had definitely pledged 
himself. He knew himself to be about to face the first real 
struggle of his life, whereby his wit and courage would be 
tried to the breaking point. His glimpse of Slum Garraway 
and the men gathered about him convinced Heritage that a 
tremendous bitterness must inevitably be infused into the 
undertaking ahead. Men of the type to enlist the sympathy 
of Frame and Garraway would assuredly stop at nothing to 
attain the ends of their masters. They were, in a measure, 
typical of that vast bushland about them, that grim, stubborn 
forest which held them in mocking slavery to its every mood, 
even as they toiled and strained at its mighty timbers in 
puny, man-made ambition to conquer and destroy. The 
very nature of their desires, the very methods by which they 
worked, argued a phase of life almost brutal in its deliberate 
disregard of any recognized precedent. Convention became 
thrust aside as the coward’s plea of the weakling, and a man’s 
ability to uphold first principles came in time to constitute 
his sole right to the recognition of his fellows. 

Heritage’s communing was suddenly interrupted by the 
clear, liquid, almost melancholy notes of a bird calling from 


TIMBER WOLVES 


175 


the black recesses of the bush. As the sound fluttered and 
died, there came to his ears a faint murmur of voices. A 
little silence fell. Then the deep, confident voice of Pete 
Diamond sounded clearly through the night. 

“ They’s your bird calling, Jean. Remember the first time 
we heard them notes? It was the night after you and 
Peggy got home from your schooling in the city, and we was 
all standing inside the gate there talking over old times. 
Most every little while that bird comes to the edge of the 
timber and calls like that; jess as if it was glad you was 
home for good, and wanted you to know.” 

The girl’s reply was inaudible. Then, as Heritage gently 
lowered his window, the cattleman spoke once more. 

“ You ain’t a’worrying, eh, little girl? They ain’t nothing 
ever going to hurt us. Why, it couldn’t be so. I reckon 
that bird ain’t jess lying when it sings of happiness like that. 
Why, if I was to lose you now. . . .” 

Smiling sympathetically, yet with a curiously empty feel- 
ing at his heart, Heritage settled himself in a fresh attempt 
to sleep. 


CHAPTER X 


HROUGH the dingy curtains of butter-cloth 



stretched over the living-room windows of the Ferry 


B house on the Bat River showed the faint light of a 
lamp. Seen in the gray dusk of evening the rambling build- 
ings took on a more than sinister appearance. The crooked 
eaves and sagging roofs, the tottering veranda posts, the 
squalid atmosphere pervading every aspect of the place, 
seemed ripe to a suggestion of crime and violence. Even 
the light showing dimly within appeared to flicker stealthily, 
as if keeping cunning vigil over the disreputable spirit of the 
building. 

As the shadows deepened without, a man came to the door 
and stood a moment peering out into the darkening prospect. 
Apparently satisfied by his scrutiny he presently withdrew, 
stamping noisily back along the narrow corridor to the 
living-room, where he seated himself with a surly denial. 

“ No, he ain’t in sight yet, Tom. Maybe he’ll show along 
in a minute or so. I never knew Hennessy to be late on a 
job of his own. Where’s Sadie got herself to? Sing out, 
she can fetch in the cards, will you ? ” 

Login made no effort to stir from his sprawling seat by 
the fire. Instead, he grinned across at Gus Rebner, sitting 
opposite. 

“ Call her yourself, daddy. She ain’t my daughter. Any- 
ways, we ain’t got time for card playing.” 

“Well, suit yourself,” said the other, ill-temperedly. He 
was an old man, gray and wrinkled as a badger, with shape- 
less nose and red-rimmed, cavernous eyes. He was coatless, 
but wore a dirty scarf twisted about his neck. His sleeves 
were rolled up to the elbows, disclosing a pair of bony, sun- 
browned arms. 

The silence that followed was broken by harsh laugh from 
Rebner. “ That Heritage man has gone back to where he 
came from, they tell me. He knew a thing or two, he did. 
Left a couple of days back. Maybe he wasn’t wise, eh ! ” 
He focussed his pale-blue eyes on the ferryman. “ What 


176 


TIMBER WOLVES 


1 77 


does Daddy Williams think about it? We’ve missed some 
fun. Slum had jess passed the word along to get busy 
with that city rat, when he clears out. My, we’d have salted 
him, eh ! Them sort don’t stand much.” 

“ I never seen the feller,” said Williams. “ Weren’t they 
some man he was tracking? I kind of remember hearing 
something.” 

“ He gave out he was looking for a man named Barkley,” 
agreed Rebner. “ It don’t matter, I reckon. He was wise 
to leave when he did. They’s no Barkley on Timber Bend.” 

Login seemed on the point of interjecting, but contented 
himself with drawing heavily at his pipe. His wide-set, 
squinting eyes held a curious glitter. 

“ Sadie, she reckons this Heritage weren’t too bad a sort,” 
volunteered the old ferryman, winking craftily at Rebner. 
“ Seems like he got along all right with the Salters and Pete 
Diamond. Now you know Pete ain’t making no friends with 
a police cop. I reckon that yarn come off the dust heap.” 

Rebner stamped his feet impatiently. 

“If Hennessy ain’t smart he’ll hold us up till to-morrow 
night. Garraway won’t stand for too much. We was away 
when that row come off with George Judney. Slum went 
crook. I’m glad we wasn’t there. I ain’t quite ready for 
Pete yet.” 

Williams bit his smile thoughtfully. 

“ You leave Pete alone, Gus. That man could wipe you 
off the earth once he got going. You know what they say 
about him down the coast? You let him be.” 

Rebner sneered. 

“ Maybe he was a holy terror once, but he ain’t now. 
Once a man gets soft on a woman the way Pete is on Salter’s 
girl, they ain’t no more need to worry about him. Besides, 
ain’t he in wrong with the police? A word from me, and 
they get him sure. I know it and he knows it. Him be 
damned.” 

Login rose to his feet with a yawn. 

“ I’m off to have a look around,” he declared. “ If Hen- 
nessy comes let me know.” 

As he went down the passage towards the back of the 
building he almost collided with Sadie Williams, who stepped 
suddenly from the door of the kitchen. At sight of the girl 
an impatient frown crossed Login’s face. 


i 7 8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ You’re kind of foolish, Sadie, ain’t you, hopping out on 
a man like that ? It’s your luck I knew it was you, else you 
might have got yourself hurt. I was coming to find you, 
anyway. Me and Gus want a nip before we start to-night.” 

The red-haired girl touched his arm timidly. Her big 
eyes were searching his face. 

“ I’ll get you one in a minute. Tom ... I want to talk 
to you. You haven’t been near me for days. I’ve some- 
thing to tell you. Come into the kitchen.” 

Some peculiarity of her manner seemed to impress Login 
for he choked back the refusal on his lips and followed her 
into the room. She closed the door after them. 

“Well?” he asked. 

For a moment she made no reply. For some reason Login 
experienced a difficulty in meeting her look. He began to 
fidget uneasily. 

“ Well, what is it?” 

“ It ain’t well,” said the girl, simply. “ Tom, I’m wanting 
to tell you something, but it ain’t easy. I been trusting 
you, ain’t I ? ” 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” grumbled the section 
boss, but his mouth twitched a little at the corners. 

A faint look of scorn came on Sadie’s face. 

“ Yes, you do. You promised you was going to marry me. 
Of course, I know you mean to, but when? You’re going 
to, ain’t you, Tom?” 

Login grinned uncomfortably. 

“Sure. You ain’t worrying about that, eh? Only they 
ain’t no particular need for hurry. Jess you wait awhile 
and we’ll fix things the way you want.” 

She shook her head slowly. 

“ We won’t wait any longer, I reckon. Can’t . . . can’t 
you understand? They’s hurry enough.” 

The man continued to stare at her uncomprehendingly. 

“ Why ? What’s biting you now ? If they’s something 
you want to say, why don’t you say it.” 

Her lips trembled but she made no reply. The blood 
rushed to her face as she lifted one hand to her bosom. Of 
a sudden Login bent forward and peered into her eyes. A 
startled oath escaped him. 

“ No ? . . . you ain’t meaning that, Sadie ? ” 

She flashed into quick anger. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


179 


“ But yes . . . yes . . . yes. D’you think I'd say that 
of myself if it wasn’t so? Good God, how selfish men can 
be. You ain’t thinking to turn me down? You’re a’going 
to keep your promise. If I thought you was only playing 
with me ...” 

He caught her by the arm almost roughly. 

“ Suppose I was ? What then ? What d’you mean ? ” 

Her mood changed swiftly. She put up her free arm and 
tried to draw his scowling face against her face. In her eyes 
was a desperate eagerness. 

“ Nothing ... I didn’t mean nothing. I’m kind of silly 
to-night, Tom . . . you love me? Say you love me! You 
ain’t only been pretending. You couldn’t do that. I ain’t 
a bad girl. I never held no truck with any man but you. 
You’re a’going to keep on loving me? ” 

But he continued to hold her off. His face was dark with 
angry suspicion. 

“You finish your say first. You was meaning that if I 
didn’t marry you, you was going to let on about Elbow 
Ridge. Was that it? You’ve got nerve for a woman, you 
have.” 

She pushed back the tangle of red hair from about her 
eyes, looking up at him steadily. 

“ Yes, I was. But I didn’t mean it. D’you think I could 
do anything to hurt you? I was jess speaking foolish. A 
girl ain’t quite . . . sensible, sometimes. Maybe you don’t 
know what it feels like to know ... to know . . .” 

Login’s frown relaxed a little. Ungraciously he suffered 
the caress she gave him. 

“ I ain’t meaning to turn you down, Sadie. We’ll get 
fixed all right, if you ain’t impatient. It ’ud be kind of 
awkward jess now, though.” His wide-set eyes looked round 
the room irritably. “ I reckon I’d best go now. They’s 
Hennessy come in. We’ll talk things over next time I 
come.” 

Her hands dropped listlessly. 

“ I’m jess trusting you, Tom. Couldn’t we go away 
somewhere soon, and start a home together like we always 
wanted? I can work. You know how I can work? You 
won’t be waiting too long? I wouldn’t like folks to get 
thinking I was that kind of a girl. They’s Jean Salter now. 
I wished I was good like her . . . her and Peg Adaire. 


i8o 


TIMBER WOLVES 


They been real good to me, them girls. I reckon I love them 
two. It ’ud kill me for them to find out. They wouldn’t 
like me no more.” 

Login’s face had flamed suddenly at mention of the names. 
There was almost hatred in the look he flashed at the uncon- 
scious speaker. He turned to the door abruptly. 

“ I said I’d fix things when I was ready. Now you for- 
get to worry and jess trust to me. And mind and not get 
talking. I ain’t going to turn you down. What about 
that nip for Tom and me? It’s time we was off.” 

The girl obeyed mechanically. Setting a row of tumblers 
on a tin tray she carried them into the living-room. Her 
appearance was greeted by an exclamation of impatience 
from her father. 

“ Get a move on, Sadie. Here’s Hennessy with the stuff 
and half the night gone. Ain’t you drinking? ” 

“ Not to-night,” said the girl, in a low voice. She looked 
towards Login, but he seemed to avoid her gaze. With a 
little sigh she turned away. 

“If they’s nothing more you want, I’m going to bed. 
I’m tired. Good-night.” 

As she went quietly from the room the ferryman grunted 
querulously. “ Don’t seem like she was well lately. I ain’t 
only the one gal and don’t want her getting sick. Who’d 
they be to do the work? You staying, Hennessy? You 
ain’t? Well, here’s how. You boys better get jigging, 
eh?” 

Unseen, the red-haired girl watched the departure from 
the window of her bedroom. The pack-horse led by Login 
jibbed a little at the start and the man’s coarse voice rang 
out in a string of angry oaths. Her father and Hennessy 
had gone to the yard rails. They stood there a moment, 
peering after the riders vanishing into the night. Then 
Hennessy mounted his own horse and rode homewards. 
The ferryman came inside, and the girl heard him pass 
grumblingly to his own room. In a brief while the place 
was wrapped in silence. 

Sadie sat by the open window, her arms resting on the 
rough ledge, her eyes gazing wistfully into the night. The 
hours passed slowly, yet the girl made no effort to move. 
The dying moon set coldly behind a thick bank of clouds and 
the air took on the chill of approaching dawn. Only then 


TIMBER WOLVES 


181 


did her ears catch the sound for which she had waited. 
With a little shiver she roused herself, dropping her stiffened 
arms from the window sill to pull the dingy curtains across 
the narrow opening. Clearly now on the still air sounded 
the clink of hoofs along the stony trail. Out of the dark- 
ness loomed the blurred figures of the returning riders. 
Crouching behind her flimsy cover the girl saw them come to 
a stop, heard the rasp and jingle of the pack horses as the 
man freed the weary horses and turned them loose. Not 
until she had heard Login and Rebner enter the house and 
silence had settled once more, did Sadie rise. Then, fully 
clothed, she threw herself down on the bed and wrapping 
the coverlet over her shoulders closed her eyes in an effort 
to sleep. 

At the first hint of daylight she rose again wearily and 
went out into the kitchen, where she kindled a fire on the 
open hearth. A little later when her father and Login 
stumbled sleepily from their beds they found the girl quietly 
preparing the breakfast. 

Williams went immediately to the back door and looked 
up inquiringly at the brightening sky. 

“ Going to be fine, Tom/’ he volunteered wheezily. He 
gave himself a hasty sluice from a bucket of water drawn 
from the iron tank standing outside, and returned dripping 
in search of a towel. “ Ain’t Gus up yet? You’ve no time 
to waste, either of you. Brekfus set, Sadie?” 

The girl nodded silently. Her eyes followed Login as he 
moved grumblingly about the kitchen. He called sharply to 
Rebner. 

“ Come out of that, Gus. Garraway ’ll be telling us off 
if we ain’t on time.” 

Not waiting an answer he seated himself at the table. 
When Rebner joined them the meal was half over. 

“ Trying for your beauty sleep this morning, Gus? ” asked 
the ferryman, leering facetiously. “ My, you ’uns ain’t like 
we was in my young days. I never seen my bed by day- 
light.” 

Rebner looked at the old man with surly impatience. 

“ Hush up, will you, Daddy. I’m that tired I could sleep 
the clock round. I ain’t slave to no man. Garraway can 
wait.” 

Throughout the meal Login appeared hardly to notice 


1 82 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Sadie. As he went out at the door, however, he met her 
eyes for a fleeting second. He called back over his shoulder. 

“ I’ll be along again next Saturday, most like.” 

The girl made no reply. She stood looking after the two 
men for so long that her father was moved to waspish re- 
buke. 

“ Ain’t you nothing better to do than stand staring all 
day, Sadie? They’s work and all to get through. Me being 
short-handed at the punt most likely I’ll want you to help 
a spell. Gosh, you ain’t struck on one of them two, eh? 
Tom ain’t no ladies’ man, anyhow. Let him be.” 

As she turned quietly away, the old man chuckled harshly. 
He failed to notice the sudden whitening of her face, the 
quick, almost gasping heave of her bosom. Grumbling, he 
went to his work. 

It was late when Login and Rebner reached the tramline. 
Garraway came out of his office to meet them. He was in 
anything but a good humor. 

“ It beats all where you two get to when I want you.” 
He looked sharply at Login, but the squat section boss 
returned the gaze unwinking. “ You boys ain’t playing me 
fair. You get good money and I look to you to be here on 
time. Ain’t been boozing up, have you? Not that I care 
what you do. But there’s been some liquor getting into 
camp lately, so I hear. That sort of thing will have to stop. 
You know what Frame threatened to do to any man hit- 
ting a jag at the mill. He wants no fire burning him out. 
If the old man could hit on the man that’s peddling the grog 
on the line here, he’d rouse hell out of him. Well, get 
busy.” 

He returned to his figuring. Login, with a faint grin at 
Gus Rebner, moved oflf to join his gang. Presently he ar- 
rived at a turn of the line where stood a steam winch with 
long steel cable snaking away into the bush. The engine- 
driver greeted him with an oath of relief. 

“ That gum butt we started on last night is making 
trouble. She fouls somewhere every time, and the cable 
don’t wind clear. Maybe you can think of something, 
Tom.” 

Login accompanied the man through the bush to where a 
small group labored over the recalcitrant tree. The section 


TIMBER WOLVES 183 

boss ran his eyes thoughtfully over the gear and he spat 
disgustedly. 

“Who’s your dodger?” 

He glared angrily at the man indicated by the engine- 
man’s grimy forefinger. 

“You, Britten? What’s the matter with you? Can’t 
you steer better than that ? ” 

“ I hurt my leg,” said the man sullenly. “ I done my best, 
but I couldn’t make the pace. She gets ahead of me.” 

Login shook a fist in the other’s face. 

“ It’s your business to see she don’t. Another break like 
that and I send you to Garraway to get your time. Get a 
fresh chain over the butt and mind your dogs grip. And 
see your line ain’t fouling. A hell of a driver you are.” 

Back at the winch the engineman tautened his cable afresh. 
Login bent over the huge log, taking final stock of the gear. 
Straightening himself he squinted along the haulage track 
and threw one arm upright. At the signal the cable stiffened 
and began to wind. The tree spun round, hung a second, 
then plunged forward with a rasping whine. By the side 
of it ran the dodger, his eyes fixed on the path ahead, his 
bar held in readiness for instant action. 

Login, after seeing the butt settled in place on the skidway, 
plunged on through the bush to his felling gang. All day 
long the woods echoed to the blow of ax and maul, the 
slurring zip-zip of the saws, the rattle of trucks, the crashing 
reverberation of falling timber. When dusk came the men 
trooped wearily back to camp. Fires began to flicker along 
the banks of the creek. Snatches of rough song broke the 
brooding quietness of the night. The air became heavy with 
the odor of burning tallow-weed and musk. 

Garraway was standing by the door of the big mess hut 
when Login came up. He held some papers in his hand. 

“ I’ve had my tea, Tom. You and Gus see to things till 
I come back. I’ve some mail to post and then I’m off to 
the Ferry to learn the news. Sambell’s got a mob coming 
in to-night. If I’m not back by morning keep on with the 
cut as you’re going. Frame wants that corner cleaned right 
up. By the way, you don’t know what’s become of Solium 
and Judney, eh? No! Well, I heard they were camped 
at Salters’. I put Archie Gatten on cooking and the boys 


184 TIMBER WOLVES 

say he’s all right so far. Those two fools killed a good 
job.” 

He stalked off and the darkness swallowed him up. Login 
hunted round till he found Rebner. 

“ Garraway’s gone to the Ferry. He says he may not be 
back till the morning.” Logan grinned and made a little 
gesture with his long arms. 

Rebner nodded with a satisfied air. Together they en- 
tered the hut and ate their tea. Going out again Login 
halted in the doorway and looked round at the assembled 
men. 

“ Garraway’s jess been complaining to me that they’s 
been some grog getting into this camp,” he said slowly. 
“ I ain’t seen any myself ; but there it is. The boss reckons 
to give the tip.” 

He paused a moment, his eye meeting that of the nearest 
man with a meaning twinkle. 

“ Of course, we don’t aim to interfere with any man lucky 
enough to find something stronger than water to wet his 
neck with, so long as he don’t get to advertising himself.” 
A grin spread over his flat features. “ Of course the whole 
thing’s silly. They ain’t any booze in this camp, and never 
was. Where in hell would it come from, anyway? Tell me 
that. You boys, you’re all right.” 

Without noticing the little ripple of amused understanding 
that came on the faces of his hearers, Login crossed over to 
his sleeping tent and seating himself on a stump by the door, 
filled and lighted his pipe. Here he was presently joined 
by Rebner. In silence they watched the rest of the men 
file out of the hut. In a little while the place was deserted 
except for themselves and Archie Gatten, the new hut-keeper, 
who went muttering about his work. After a time he too 
came out and vanished swiftly in the wake of his comrades. 

Rebner peered through the dark towards his friend. 

“ Who’s handling the stuff ? ” he asked abruptly. 

“ That big Swede, Larsen,” said Login. He cocked his 
head to one side, listening. Apparently satisfied, he re- 
sumed. “ Chris ain’t no s wiper himself and I can handle 
him easy. I got to find out where he comes from and why, 
and he knows I know. He won’t talk. I’ve told him it’s 
all c. o. d. this time. I reckon he’s big enough to hold the 
boys off till I get along.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


185 

The two men smoked on in silence. Suddenly Rebner rose 
to his feet with a muttered oath. On the still night had 
broken out a confused sound of shouting. It died d6wn as 
abruptly as it had begun. Rebner looked at his companion 
uncertainly. 

“ I’d hop along, Gus, if I were you/’ said Login presently. 
He struck a match and looked at the watch on his belt. 
“ Maybe they’re all right, but it don’t do to run risks. Tell 
some of them blobs they’ll need to walk to Green Valley 
next time they get a thirst up, if they don’t act reasonable. 
You know what Garraway is ! ” 

Left to himself Login smoked on stolidly. Perhaps a 
quarter of an hour had passed when a sudden crackling 
movement in the bush at his back made him face round 
with every nerve tautened. The sound came closer. Noise- 
lessly Login backed behind an angle of the tent and stood 
there motionless, watching. Despite his bulk the squat 
timber man had made no sound. There was something 
cat-like in the crouch of his body, the agile set of his long 
arms. 

The sounds proceeding from the bushes, at first indefinite, 
took on the character of stumbling foot-falls. They ap- 
proached, receded, approached once more. Followed a little 
period of seeming hesitation. Then the bushes parted and 
the shadowy figure of a 'man stumbled into the clear space 
about the tent. 

Login, peering into the dark with hostile eyes, drew a 
sudden sharp breath of relief. His poise relaxed and he 
stepped forward with a little impatient exclamation. The 
dimly seen figure of the new comer broke into anxious 
speech. 

“Who is that? Is that Mr. Garraway?” 

“ No, it ain’t. It’s me ... Tom Login. How’d you 
come along this way, Mr. Adaire? Got yourself bushed?” 

Adaire dropped on the log with a tired sigh. He laughed 
faintly. “It’s you, Login, is it? Yes, I was bushed like 
any new chum. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find 
evidence of your camp. At my age one doesn’t fancy a 
night in the scrub. Besides, my little girl at home would 
be dreadfully anxious if I failed to turn up. She will be 
anxious as it is.” 

“ What was you doing to get bushed ? ” asked Login. The 


TIMBER WOLVES 


1 86 

queer inflexion in his voice caused the old man to look 
at him in surprised fashion. 

“ Why, I was doing nothing in particular, I believe/’ re- 
turned Adaire slowly. “ I went out for a walk and fell to 
dreaming. I sometimes do, you know. It is a habit of 
mine which I cannot recommend to my friends. Occasion- 
ally — as for instance, to-night — the result is disastrous. I 
lost my way completely. Even now I am not sure where I 
am; only that this is some part of the tramline and here, 
presumably, your own camp. I wonder would one of your 
men set me on the track for home? In the daylight I could 
manage, no doubt; but at night . . . My eyesight is not 
very good.” 

“ Your luck’s clean out,” said Login. “ They ain’t no one 
handy but me. The mob’s gone along to the ten-mile. 
Only some one has to mind camp I reckon I’d have been 
with them.” 

He uttered the lie unblinkingly, well knowing there was 
no fear of contradiction. Adaire was frankly distressed. 
He rose to his feet hesitatingly. 

“ I must do the best I can then by myself. If you would 
point the direction . . 

Login had been doing some rapid thinking. Now, under 
cover of the dark, a grin of cunning came on his face. He 
took hold of Adaire’s thin arm in rough pretense at friend- 
liness. His voice lost its surly intonation. 

“ I reckon maybe I’ll tote you along home myself. I was 
going to say so when you cut in. I’m tired right enough; 
but, seeing it’s you, I don’t mind. It ain’t far, anyhow.” 

“ That’s very kind of you,” said the old man. He added 
almost immediately, however, in a tone of weary surprise, 
“ But then I thought you said you had to mind camp? I 
don’t want to be too much of a nuisance, you know.” 

For the moment Login appeared at a loss. 

“ That’s so,” he admitted. “ Well, it don’t matter for the 
once. I’m pretty well my own boss. If they’s any kick 
coming, I reckon I can stand it.” 

Adaire made no further objection. It was plain to see 
that his chief concern was to reach home before his absence 
caused anxiety. He replied to Login in monosyllables. In 
the end the section boss was forced to give over his attempt 
to converse. He relapsed into a sullen silence. At Adaire’s 


TIMBER WOLVES 


187 


gate they halted. The old man looked at him hesitatingly. 

“ I’m very much obliged to you, Tom. You must be tired 
yourself. Would you . . . that is, I thought perhaps you 
might care to step inside and rest yourself before returning 
to camp. Maybe you’d like some supper ? ” 

His tone was far from inviting, but Login grasped at the 
offer greedily. He reached out his hand and swung open 
the gate. 

“ Why, sure I will, if it ain’t troubling you too bad.” 

At the eagerness in the rough voice Adaire paused a second 
time, seeming to peer at him doubtfully. He led the way 
slowly to the house. Login followed grinning. His elation, 
however, received a check at sight of Jean Salter bending 
over the work table in the sitting-room. 

On the appearance of her father, Peggy Adaire ran for- 
ward and threw her arms about the old man’s neck. She 
began to chide at him softly. 

“Daddy, daddy . . . where have you been? We were 
getting anxious about you. Explain yourself, sir. Jean, 
how does one punish a bad father ? ” 

Despite the raillery there was genuine relief in the girl’s 
voice. Her hands trembled a little as she helped him out 
of his great coat. Adaire dropped into his chair with a sigh 
of content. 

“ Hide his pipe and tobacco for a week,” said Jean, with 
a laugh. “ If you want a male thing to be perfectly miser- 
able, I can recommend that treatment. Smokers only, of 
course.” 

“ I’ve been bushed,” said the old man, rather shame- 
facedly. “ Actually I didn’t know where I was. Only that 
I fortunately stumbled on to the tramline, I might have 
had. . . .” He broke off, suddenly remembering his escort. 
“ Why, Tom ! Won’t you sit down awhile ? ” 

Until that moment it is doubtful if either of the girls 
had been fully aware of Login’s presence, so occupied were 
they with Adaire. On a recognition of the visitor they eyed 
each other perplexedly. Unseen, save by her friend, Jean 
wrinkled her nose in comical disgust. 

Login had been standing just inside the door. At Adaire’s 
words he came forward with a clumsy greeting. 

“ Evening, Miss Peggy. Evening, Jean.” 

Following the one perfunctory glance around the neat 


1 88 


TIMBER WOLVES 


room his wide-set eyes came back to Peggy’s face in a stare 
of admiration. There was something so repellent in the look 
that the girl colored and turned aside hurriedly. 

Jean Salter broke an uneasy silence. 

“Good-evening, Mr. Login! How is Sadie? We have 
not seen anything of her for quite a time. She is well, I 
hope ? ” 

Unwittingly she had voiced the one question calculated 
to disturb the man’s brutish complaisance. His face flamed 
angrily. 

“Well enough, I suppose. Why ast me? She ain’t of 
no particular interest, that I knows of.” 

Jean returned his gaze coolly. She saw that she had 
somehow annoyed him, and wondered why. 

“ Indeed ! I understood that you were engaged to be 
married. In the circumstances it was natural enough to 
take your interest for granted.” 

“ Well, we ain’t,” denied Login bluntly. He shifted in 
his seat uncomfortably. 

“ Then I beg your pardon,” said Jean. In spite of a 
growing indignation she managed to speak quietly. Her 
instinct told her that something was wrong somewhere, yet 
what -it could be she was unable to determine. In her heart 
she rejoiced over Login’s denial. She had a real affection 
for Sadie Williams. She had never quite understood the 
evident liking of the red-headed girl for this brutish man 
before her. 

“ Tom was kind enough to bring me home,” interjected 
Adaire, a trifle hastily. “ I thought we might offer him 
some supper before he returned to camp.” 

Glad of an excuse to absent herself Peggy rose imme- 
diately. To Login’s ill-concealed disappointment she closed 
the kitchen door after her. He turned sourly to Adaire. 

“ I hear that Heritage has gone back to where he come 
from. You must be glad ! ” 

Adaire looked at him quickly. 

“ I don’t know that I understand you. Mr. Heritage has 
certainly returned to Melbourne, but I do not know that the 
fact affords me pleasure.” 

He paused as if in doubt. The thin hand raised to shield 
his eyes from the glare of the lamp appeared to tremble 
slightly. 


TIMBER WOLVES 189 

“ On the contrary, I am sorry. I found much to admire 
in Jack Heritage. ,, 

Login grinned. 

“ Did you?” 

.Jean flashed him an indignant glance. He saw it, and 
his eyes glinted maliciously. 

“ I liked him very much,” said Adaire quietly. 

“ That’s kind of strange, ain’t it ? Still they’s no account- 
ing for taste,” said Login. He looked at the old man 
queerly. “ Now me, I put that Heritage down as a first- 
class blob. Right from the start I had him placed. He 
comes round here saying he’s trailing a man called Barkley, 
but he don’t find him. In a way, that’s a lucky thing for 
Barkley . . . supposing there is a Barkley.” 

Adaire made no reply. 

“ I do not think Mr. Heritage means anything but good 
towards the man he seeks,” said Jean, spiritedly. “ Why 
should you suggest otherwise ? ” 

Login ignored her rudely. He continued to eye the thin 
figure of Adaire intently. 

“ Why, yes ; I should certainly say that man Barkley’s 
luck was in, eh, Phil?” He licked his lips, framing the 
lie in his mind. “ Heritage as good as told me it was a 
hanging matter, if they found Barkley.” 

To Jean’s distressed fancy the shoulders of the old man 
at her side appeared to heave suddenly. She bent towards 
him anxiously. 

“ Why, Mr. Adaire, you’re shivering. You haven’t caught 
cold? Come now, off to bed, and let Peggy bring you a 
drink of something nice and hot.” 

Before Adaire could answer — if indeed he had meant 
to — Login’s rough voice struck in again. His growing 
malice made him careless of anything but a sudden fierce 
desire to wound these people whose dislike of himself, 
studiously repressed though it was, could hardly be mis- 
taken. 

“ That’s right. A drop of hot grog’s the thing. Now if 
you was down on the tramline . . . but maybe they’s plenty 
here too. Some one’s making a pot of money handing 
liquor out to the boys.” Login winked deliberately at Jean. 
“ Quicker’n working for wages, eh ? ’Specially when they’s 
some one waiting to hit the marriage market. It’s a dirty 


190 


TIMBER WOLVES 


game — peddling sly booze, and a risky one, but it certainly 
brings in the cash. ,, 

The girl’s face was strangely troubled. She was breathing 
quickly. 

Login dropped his voice to a husky whisper. 

“ Seen Pete Diamond around lately, Jean?” 

It was impossible to mistake the brutal inference. Jean 
turned on him in a blaze of indignation. 

“ How dare you ? How dare you suggest such an abom- 
inable lie? Pete Diamond would never dream of soiling 
himself in such a traffic. Only a coward would accuse a 
man behind his back. If Pete knew what you have said he 
would kill you. You . . . you vile creature ! ” 

Before the scorn of her blue eyes the squat section boss 
sat in snarling silence. What more he might have said was 
interrupted by the entry of Peggy with a tray of cups. He 
drank his coffee sullenly. More than once he tried to catch 
Peggy’s eye, but the girl steadfastly refused to look at him. 
Jean Salter ignored him absolutely. 

“ Well, I’ll be getting along,” he said. “ Seems like I 
ain’t over popular hereabouts.” 

Neither of the girls noticed his departure. Only Phil 
Adaire met his scowl with a timid commonplace. In the 
old man’s faded eyes was something almost appealing. 
When Login had gone he sank into his chair broodingly. 

“ I never wish to see that brute again,” declared Jean 
abruptly, after a little silence. “If the devil ever assumes 
human shape we’ve entertained him to-night. Beast ! ” 

Peggy gave a little shudder. Her eyes looked almost 
frightened. “ He is a horrible man. He ... he looks at 
me sometimes ... I think he would be capable of any 
wickedness. Jean, won’t you be afraid to go home? Hadn’t 
you better stay overnight with us ? ” 

Jean laughed reassuringly. 

“ Father will call for me. In any case Login dare not 
harm me. Why, Pete . . . Pete would . . . you know what 
Pete would do to him.” Her reliance on the big cattleman 
was absolute. Her eyes glowed at the thought of his splen- 
did strength and courage. Not in all the world could there 
be the equal of her giant lover. She said again, with a kind 
of awe, “ Why, Pete would kill Login ! ” 

Peggy sat herself on the arm of her father’s chair. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


191 

“ Daddy, whatever possessed you to bring Login here ? 
Don’t you know he is a bad man? ” 

“ What would you call a bad man?” asked the old man, 
in an absent voice. 

“Why, Login,” said Peggy, with feminine logic. “One 
who robs, cheats, and lies — yes, and kills, if need be. But 
not in fair fight. Login is such a man ! ” 

Adaire looked up at her. A swift spasm of emotion 
crossed his face. He put his hand to his eyes wearily. 

“ Yes, I believe that. Login would murder, if he could 
escape the consequences. Yet . . . even killing is some- 
times justifiable.” 

A shrill whistle sounded outside the house. Jean rose 
to her feet and tied a shawl hastily about her head. She 
bent and kissed the old man affectionately. 

“ There’s father. Now Mr. Adaire, off to bed for a good 
night’s rest. You’re tired and dispirited. Peggy will see 
me to the gate. Good-night ! ” 

When Peggy returned the sitting-room was vacant. She 
closed and locked the doors and windows. Then she tip- 
toed softly down the passage to her father’s room and peeped 
in. She had thought to find the old man already in bed, 
waiting her good-night kiss. Instead, he was kneeling by 
the window seat, his gray head bowed on his arms. Even 
as she looked he roused slightly. She saw that he held 
something in his hand — a long, gleaming tress of hair. A 
little groan escaped his lips. 

Very quietly the girl closed the door and went on to her 
own bedroom. In her heart was a great longing, a passion- 
ate cry for some memory of her dead mother. Tears trem- 
bled in her eyes. It was long before sleep came to soothe 
her bewildered grief. 


CHAPTER XI 


H ERITAGE’S trip back to the mainland proved un- 
eventful. Within an hour of berthing he surprised 
his partner by clattering into the office and falling 
upon him with enthusiasm. Colvin pushed him into a chair 
and proceeded to look him over affectionately. 

“ Well, upon my word, if it isn’t Johnny. Where did you 
come from? Have you run your man to earth then? Let’s 
see — you’ve been absent a matter of two months nearly. 
In all that time you’ve written twice only. Had a good 
time? But I can see you have. You’re as brown as a piece 
of wattle bark. And where is Barkley? Got him in irons 
in a cab outside ? ” 

“ Stop your chaffing, Bob,” laughed Heritage. “ No, I 
haven’t found Barkley yet. But I mean to. As for having 
written you so very infrequently, if you knew how busy 
I’ve been, and what a job there is ahead of me, you wouldn’t 
wonder at that.” 

Colvin lapsed into gravity. 

“ Well, but if you haven’t got Barkley what made you 
return? You don’t mean to say you were getting home- 
sick ? ” 

“ Now don’t be cross,” pleaded the young man eagerly. 
“ I’ll tell you what it was, Bob. I couldn’t let you know I 
was coming because I didn’t know it myself until it was 
time to start. Wait until you hear all about things. I 
want your advice badly. I’m in it up to my neck. Listen 
now ! ” 

Colvin heard him through without comment. At the 
finish, however, he pursed his lips disapprovingly. His eyes 
looked troubled. 

“ Granted, everything is as you say, Johnny,” he said 
slowly, “ is it wise, do you think, to buck yourself against 
such men as Sam Frame? I’d like to see it the way you do, 
but experience has made me hesitate to touch anything I 
don’t fully understand. And I don’t understand the timber 
industry. Neither do you. Frame knows the ins and outs 

192 


TIMBER WOLVES 


193 


of the business a thousand times better than you or I would 
ever hope to. I don’t like it.” 

“ Granted we know nothing, what about Salter ? ” defended 
the young man swiftly. “ I tell you, Bob, Salter knows the 
game from A to Z.” 

“ He needs to. If you fail it will mean ruination to these 
new friends of yours ... if not to yourself. Have you 
thought of that? ” 

But Heritage refused to be discouraged. Something of 
the vigor and stubbornness of the great forest from which 
he was newly come had already suffused itself into his being. 
He laughed almost scornfully. 

“ Fail! We shan’t fail. We can't fail. You don’t know 
Pete Diamond, or the Salters, or the Adaires. I tell you, 
Bob, those people are just splendid. And then again the 
right of the matter is all with us. Is it fair, is it even decent, 
that Frame and his associates should rule the roost? These 
folks born and bred on the coast, that know every inch of 
the country, that spend their lives toiling in the out-back . . . 
what of them ? Have they no share in the natural resources 
of their country? Must they always stand aside for the 
rank outsider? Look here, Bob, the big men operating 
around Timber Bend are what Salter calls them — timber 
wolves. They recognize no kindliness, no charity. They 
know no law but their own greed. It is no wild exaggera- 
tion that pictures them as the wild beasts of commerce ; men 
who for money’s sake would rend the flesh of even their 
dearest and best. Thank God, all are not alike. There are 
straight-goers, even in business. But these men controlling 
Timber Bend are the moral outcasts of the trade. I would 
spend my last penny to thwart them.” 

In the face of such enthusiasm Colvin was powerless. He 
was forced to throw up a hand to try to stem the tide of his 
friend’s eloquence. 

“ Upon my soul, Johnny, you’re climbing out of your shell 
with a vengeance. I’d dearly love for some of these church- 
going rogues you speak of to hear your opinion of them. 
No sane man would doubt the truth of your indictment. 
There are wasters in every walk of life. The trouble is that 
modern society is more or less of a humbug. Ours is a 
money- worshiping age. We judge by externals. We sub- 
stitute a bank pass-book for the Bible, and seldom care to see 


194 


TIMBER WOLVES 


beyond the gilt on a man’s watch-chain.” He shrugged his 
thin shoulders and smiled resignedly. “ Well, I suppose 
you’re already committed to this hare-brained scheme. The 
question now is, what do you want me to do? I suppose I 
must hang with the rest of you ! ” 

Heritage grabbed at his partner’s hand and shook it 
heartily. “You’re a trump, Bob. I knew I could make 
you see things our way. As for what we expect you to do, 
well, I’m not quite sure yet where you come in. I’ve got 
sense enough to know that it won’t do for the firm to appear 
openly in this matter. As a matter of fact, I think you 
had better appear to disown me entirely. We’ll talk things 
over later.” 

“How will you stand with Frame now?” asked Colvin, 
curiously. “ He doesn’t know yet, of course ? ” 

Heritage made a wry face. 

“ He will soon. Believe me or not, Bob, I don’t care a 
dump what he thinks. I’ve been disappointed in that man.” 

Colvin grinned. 

“ If I wanted to be nasty, I should say * I told you so.’ 
So you are coming at last to see that Sam Frame has another 
and nastier side? I wondered how long it would take you. 
By the way, have you reflected that Winifred Frame will 
not unnaturally resent your new attitude towards her father. 
Will it matter, Johnny?” 

Heritage colored, but met his partner’s gaze steadily. 

“If you had asked me that a month ago, Bob, I might 
have said yes. As it is, I’m not so sure.” 

“ I see,” said Colvin. 

To himself he was saying “ Oho, so he’s met some other 
girl, has he?” Immediately he set himself to the task of 
pumping an admission from his friend. The task proved 
comparatively easy in such expert hands. 

“ Well, suppose you tell me something about Timber 
Bend. Not too many young folks there, eh? You must 
have found the society rather uncongenial. Worthy man 
though he is the dweller out-back must of necessity be found 
lacking in those essentials to pleasant society which you and 
I are accustomed to.” 

He paused a moment, smiling craftily. 

“ Generally speaking, I found the settler to be stupid and 
quite noticeably ill-informed, not to say illiterate. The men, 


TIMBER WOLVES 


195 


of course, were the worst. Yet the poor women . . . con- 
sidering the kind of existence they are forced to lead, one 
can hardly expect them to be other than round-shouldered 
and sloppy. No refinement is possible. Now when I . . .” 

“ Will you hush up,” burst out Heritage indignantly. 
“You may know something about law but, upon my soul, 
Bob, your idea of the folk out-back is absolutely rotten. 
You’d be surprised at some of the people I’ve met lately. 
Unsociable ! Illiterate ! Unrefined ! God bless my soul, 
you don’t know what you’re talking about. Why, Jean 
Salter, for instance, is one of the most charmingly gentle, 
refined girls I have ever met. You think people out-back are 
content to grub along any old way. You’re wrong. Both 
those girls were at college for years, and . . .” 

“ Both which girls ? ” asked Colvin calmly. “ I only heard 
you speak of one.” 

Heritage glared at the interruption. 

“ You couldn’t have been listening. I said that both Jean 
Salter and Peggy Adaire were at college for years. How 
does Peggy Adaire strike you for a name, anyhow? Any- 
thing unrefined or illiterate about that, eh? She’s the most 
beautiful girl I ever saw, and her nature is as lovely as 
her face. And sing ! She’s a second Melba. Bob, it would 
do you good just to see her.” 

Colvin bent over and patted the young man’s arm sooth- 
ingly. “You’re getting a bit mixed, Johnny, ain’t you? 
Which girl is it that is beautiful? Is it the one that sings, 
or the other one. I seem to remember that you spoke of 
two. And which one is it you would like me to see ? You’d 
make a rotten witness, old chap.” 

“ I was talking of Peggy Adaire, confound you,” began 
Heritage exasperatedly. He suddenly caught his partner’s 
eye and came to a full stop, reddening furiously. 

Colvin broke into a chuckle of delight. 

“ Confound you,” said Heritage again. “ I believe you’ve 
been pulling my leg all this time.” 

“Caught you, Johnny; caught you fairly,” said the older 
man, this time laughing outright. “ Come, don’t be cross 
with me. I just had to confirm my suspicions.” His eyes 
suddenly became very kind. “ Tell me all about her, boy. 
Is she so very wonderful then?” 

“The most wonderful girl in the world,” said Heritage 


196 


TIMBER WOLVES 


simply. “ Bob, Peggy Adaire is one of God’s women, as 
they say. And I . . . damn it, old man, I’m head over 
heels in love with her.” 

“ Who is she ? I mean, who are her folks ? ” asked Colvin, 
after a little embarrassed pause. 

“ I don’t know. She lives with her father. I understand 
that her mother died some years ago. Does it matter ? ” 

“ Well, well,” uttered Colvin, back to his every-day, 
expressionless tones once more. “Johnny, you must tell 
me more of her. For the present I’m going to be busy. 
We’ll go into this timber affair of yours to-morrow. What 
are you going to do now ? ” 

“ Ring Frame up and get it over,” said the young man 
promptly. “ Any one in my own room ? Right ! I can 
use the ’phone there then.” 

Back in his office he carefully closed the door and then 
called up a number on the telephone. One of Frame’s clerks 
answered him. 

“Is Mr. Frame in? I see. Is he disengaged?” 

“ Who’s speaking ? ” 

“ Tell him it’s Jack Heritage. It’s important, if you don’t 
mind.” 

The clerk appeared still to hesitate. 

“ I shan’t keep him a moment,” assured the young man. 

“ I’ll put you through then,” called the clerk. 

Apparently he was as good as his word, for a second later 
Heritage heard Frame’s big voice calling over the wire. 

“ It’s Heritage, Mr. Frame,” he said in reply. “ May I 
call at your house to-night, please? I want to see you par- 
ticularly.” 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“ Why ? ” asked the timber man bluntly. 

“ There are several things I want to explain. I wouldn’t 
bother you unnecessarily, Mr. Frame. I think you know 
that. May I call?” 

“ I hardly see the necessity,” returned Frame evenly. 

“ It will be to the advantage of us both,” persisted Heri- 
tage. “ I shan’t ask for much of your time.” 

“ Very well, then,” he heard Frame snap. “ Eight o’clock 
this evening, at my house. Only get this into your head 
before you come, and it might save you a lot of talking. 
I’m through with you, young man. If I hear what you have 


TIMBER WOLVES 


197 


to say it is only because Fm better tempered than some 
people think.” 

He appeared to slam the receiver on the hook and ring off 
almost in Heritage’s ear. The young man grinned a trifle 
nervously, but his eyes were unafraid. He knew himself 
committed too deeply to back down now, even had he wanted 
to. And he did not want to. He was more than ever 
determined to go through with the business. 

As he went along the corridor Colvin called to him sud- 
denly. Heritage poked his head inside the door. 

“ You want me, Bob? ” 

His partner was regarding the ceiling with twinkling 
eyes. “ I do. In the excitement of our reunion we appear 
to have completely overlooked the original business which 
took you to Timber Bend. Did you, or did you not, find 
out anything about Barkley? Take your time about an- 
swering, Johnny. I wouldn’t rattle you for the world.” 

“ Nothing definite,” confessed Heritage. “ He’s there, 
all the same. I’m convinced of it. Why, I couldn’t tell 
you ; but I know it is so. Some one over there will drop a 
hint one day, and there you are.” 

“ Humph ! One more question and you can run away 
and amuse the world of finance trying to raise capital to 
fight the ogre, Frame. Did you tell people your reason for 
wanting to find Barkley?” 

“ I did not,” said Heritage. “ It seemed to me that to 
advertise my business too fully was simply to lay myself 
open to imposture. Barkleys would crop up along my path 
like mushrooms. You agree with that?” 

“ All right. You’re running the show for the present.” 
Colvin brought his eyes from the ceiling and smiled sadly. 
“ Well, good-by, Jack the Giant Killer. And I used to think 
myself a business man ! ” 

A little before eight o’clock that evening Heritage swung 
open the gate of Frame’s garden and walked up the drive 
towards the well-remembered house. Despite his utmost he 
had to confess to a feeling of nervousness. Now that he 
was to meet the timber man, face to face, all sorts of doubts 
assailed him. Standing under the porch he found his 
mouth suddenly dry, and the hand raised to press the electric 
bell trembling slightly. For a second a kind of panic seized 
him, so that he had all he could do to restrain himself from 


TIMBER WOLVES 


198 

incontinent flight. Gradually his courage re-asserted itself. 
Memory conjured up the fat, smiling, hopeful face of 
Charley Salter, as it had appeared beside the coach on the 
morning of his departure from Green Valley. In some 
mysterious manner the parting words of the stout cattle- 
dealer reproduced themselves in his ears. 

“ This ain’t a fight only for ourselves, that we’re putting 
up, Jack. It’s a fight for the smaller men all over Australia. 
It’s a fight of right against might; a fight for the under- 
dog; for them we love; for the little children yet to be born. 
Get that into your head and keep it there. We’re twentieth 
century crusaders, and don’t you forget it.” 

Heritage remembered how the oddness of the last sen- 
tence had made him smile and wonder where the stout man 
had obtained his comparison. He felt his heart suddenly 
warm to the work before him. These people back in the 
big timber were trusting him absolutely. To fail them 
would be a crime unthinkable. They were his friends, his 
partners. 

The thought steadied him at once. He raised his hand 
and punched the door-bell with almost violence. Strangely 
enough at that moment the huge clock in the hall within 
struck the hour. The loud, clanging notes reached him 
even through the thick door, seeming to echo the challenge 
of his thoughts. So might a knight of old have sounded his 
trumpet as he entered the lists to do deadly battle against 
his foes. From across the water Peggy Adaire’s clear eyes 
appeared to smile suddenly, even as the eyes of some dead 
and gone beauty might have smiled encouragingly towards 
some doughty knight of old. 

It was a quaint conceit, and he was still smiling gently 
as he entered Frame’s study. The timber man was sitting 
at his desk. At sight of Heritage he rose and held out his 
hand. The action surprised the young man. He had ex- 
pected a more or less surly greeting. Frame evidently 
read the thought, for he laughed shortly. 

“ I see no reason so far to honor you with my personal 
dislike,” he rumbled. “ Refusing to shake hands with you 
wouldn’t do you any harm nor me any good. Well, you 
wanted to see me. If you think you have any chance of 
explaining the trick you played me, why, go ahead. I can 
give you fifteen minutes. At the same time, I might as well 


TIMBER WOLVES 


199 


tell you that you’re not likely to do yourself any good. 
The way you went back on your promise was contemptible. 
I can’t see any excuse that will fit.” 

Heritage looked at the old man steadily, though with ris- 
ing color. 

“ I’m not here to defend any action of mine, Mr. Frame. 
However, I should like to remind you that you gave me your 
confidence unasked. You exacted my promise unfairly. 
When I learnt something of the true facts of the case I 
could do no less than recall that promise. However, that 
can hardly matter now. You must judge as you think fit. 
I came here to-night not to defend the past, but to give you 
fair warning of the future. But before I explain myself, 
I want you to know that I am not ungrateful for the many 
kindnesses I have received at your hands. I can only ask 
you to believe that I do not oppose you for anything less 
vital than a matter of principle.” 

Frame was regarding him through half closed eyes. 
There was an air of amused tolerance, almost contempt, in 
the way he yawned at the conclusion of the remark. 

“ Well ? ” he asked carelessly. 

Heritage got a grip of his courage. 

“ Mr. Frame, I’m going into the timber business for my- 
self.” 

If Frame felt any astonishment or resentment on receipt 
of this bald statement, he masked his emotions admirably. 
Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray himself. Heri- 
tage had expected some swift show of anger, but none came. 
Instead, Frame merely repeated his former query. 

“ Well?” 

The utter indifference in the big voice shook the young 
man’s confidence more hardly than the most violent display 
of anger. For a second he could only stare at Frame un- 
easily, at a loss to continue. 

“ I said I was going into the timber trade on my own 
account,” he repeated. “ I suppose the fact can hardly in- 
terest you very much, after all. I want you to know, how- 
ever, that the decision is quite recent; I had no intention 
whatever of such a purpose, when last I saw you. I want 
to be fair and above board. I want you to know. . . .” 

Frame banged a fist on the table with almost startling sud- 
denness. His attitude of indifference had vanished com- 


200 


TIMBER WOLVES 


pletely. He leant forward in his chair, his eyes snapping. 

“ Bah . . . cut out the whine. I’m not your father con- 
fessor to listen while you cant and snivel and humbug. Be 
honest. I’m only interested in a man’s actions. I don’t 
care a damn what his motives are. You’re going into the 
timber trade. Why? Give me a straight answer, or none 
at all.” 

The words, no less than the action, supplied a needed 
whip to the young man’s confidence. He felt his own anger 
rise swiftly. With difficulty he choked back the hot retort 
which rose to his lips. 

“ You make it hard for me to continue. I’m trying to 
give you a straight answer, as you call it. I’m going into 
the trade for a matter of principle, and that alone.” 

“You expect me to believe that?” 

“ Mr. Frame,” said Heritage earnestly. “ I certainly do. 
I don’t really care a snap of the fingers for the money in 
the game, although I believe it to be not inconsiderable. 
The fact of the matter is this. The big firms, the estab- 
lished firms, deny the right of the small man to compete. 
They resent his effort to obtain a share of what is his by all 
the laws of decency and justice. The man who has lived 
his life in the very shadow of the forest that you big men lay 
waste with all the recklessness of greed, is forced to stand 
aside and see his inheritance despoiled without one iota of 
redress. He dare not compete. Should he attempt to do 
so, you strangle him remorselessly. In a hundred ways you 
hound him to financial death ; sometimes — God forgive you 
— to actual death of the body. Tasman Perkins was only 
one of your victims.” 

“ You have the damned impudence to accuse me of that? ” 
asked Frame hoarsely. 

“ I accuse you of nothing,” retorted Heritage. “ Your 
own conscience takes the place of prosecutor, Mr. Frame. 
I’m going into this business to prove that it can be run on 
decent lines. I’m going into it with my eyes wide open, 
knowing full well the sort of opposition I shall have to face. 
If I fail, I fail. At least I shall have the satisfaction of 
knowing that I fought cleanly and openly. But I shan’t 
fail, I shall win. And if I win, so shall others that come 
after me. That’s all I want to say.” 

Frame’s face was purple with anger. He half rose out 


TIMBER WOLVES 


201 


of his seat. For a single second Heritage thought the old 
man meant to strike him. 

“ So that’s it ? Bah, what a canting pup you have come 
to be. And a liar . . . God, what a liar. You’re going 
into the timber trade because you think there’s big money 
in it. That, and that alone, is your reason. The rest of 
your talk is only a sop to your conscience. You’re after 
the cash. You think there’s a fortune to be made. And so 
there is. But not for you. You poor fool, I’ll break you 
in a single season. I’ll put you down and out like a rotten 
log. You think you can play me the trick that you did, and 
then come here and abuse me to my face and whine about 
the purity of your own motives, and yet get out on both 
your feet? . . . I tell you that not a penny of promotors’ 
capital shall go your way. I’ll queer you with every money 
market in Australasia. I’ll squeeze you till your soul sweats 
pure blood. I’ll . . .” 

He fell back in his chair panting, his face so congested 
with angry blood that Heritage started towards him in 
alarm. Frame struck him away. 

“ Get out of my house. Get out of my house. God 
... if I was twenty years younger I’d smash you with my 
hands.” 

For a second Heritage almost wavered in his purpose. 
The timber man presented such a picture of outraged in- 
nocence that for one horrible moment the younger man won- 
dered if he were not mistaken after all, if Frame were 
not justified in what he had said. The mood passed as 
swiftly as it had come. He rose to his feet. 

“I’m going now, Mr. Frame!” Heritage looked at the 
old man almost wistfully. “ I’m sorry you feel like this 
about things, I suppose it’s no use asking to see Win before 
I go?” 

He waited a moment, but no reply was forthcoming. 
Heritage passed silently out of the room. 

For a full five minutes Frame sat glaring at the closed 
door. Then he rose heavily from his chair and stood with 
his hands spread on the polished surface of the table. He 
began to mutter aloud. 

“ Rice ? no good ! Can’t keep his mouth shut. Corri- 
gan ? he’s little better ! They must go. Kent ? I don’t al- 
together trust Kent. James? I should have thought of 


202 


TIMBER WOLVES 


James first. James can handle this. I’ll speak to James. 
The damned young puppy.” 

With a trembling hand he reached the receiver from the 
telephone on his desk. 


CHAPTER XII 


W HATEVER doubt Heritage may have had as to 
Frame’s ability to make good his threat was 
quickly dispelled. As the days fled and his hopes 
of raising the capital he needed remained still unrealized, 
the young man was seriously perturbed. He interviewed 
man after man. In every case the result was negative. He 
was received courteously enough, it is true. Men listened 
to what he had to say and politely regretted their inability 
to advance the capital he asked for. It appeared to Heri- 
tage, doggedly persevering, that he had only need to men- 
tion his name and business to ensure an atmosphere, if not 
directly hostile, at least suspiciously non-committal. 

At first Heritage was merely puzzled to account for his 
lack of success. Later, a growing sensation of fear began 
to gnaw at the roots of his confidence. Imperceptibly he be- 
gan to lose courage. He knew his proposition to be both 
sound and convincing. Yet bit by bit he found himself 
hedged around by a blank wall of refusal. In all this he 
presently began to see the hand of Sam Frame. The tim- 
ber king was making good his boast. He was closing the 
money market against him. It seemed incredible that one 
man could so rule a community; yet so it was. Never till 
then had Heritage realized the power of his opponent. 
With the knowledge came an overwhelming sense of hu- 
miliation. From the very beginning he was beaten. And 
the folk at Timber Bend had staked their all on his bare 
promise. 

He came one morning to the office after a sleepless night, 
and showed his partner so haggard a face that Colvin be- 
came seriously alarmed for his health. 

“ This won’t do, Johnny,” said the old lawyer, with an 
attempt at sternness. “ You’re simply making yourself ill. 
Try to understand that you can’t force a matter of this 
kind. Slow and steady wins the race, you know. As for 
what you tell me about Frame, that was only to be expected. 
The man is simply taking advantage of his business connec- 

203 


204 


TIMBER WOLVES 


tions to queer your pitch. It was a mistake to tell him 
what you intended doing. Your action was quixotic and 
quite unnecessary. I’ve half a mind to advise you to drop 
the whole thing while you can. I don’t know that any one 
would blame you for so doing.” 

Heritage made a gesture of impatience. 

“ I tell you, Bob, I can’t let go now. I’ve passed rny 
word to find that money and I’m going to have it. I don’t 
care a damn for Frame or any of them. I’ll get that money 
— every penny of it, if I have to steal it and go to gaol 
afterwards.” 

Colvin nodded soothingly. 

“ I know how you feel, Johnny ; but please don’t glare 
at me like that. The Lord knows I’m not responsible . for 
your troubles. I’m here to help you if I can. This is a 
case for some cool thinking. Don’t let Frame get you rat- 
tled.” 

The young man smiled penitently. 

“ I’m an ungrateful beast. The thing is so damnably 
hard to understand though. I get frantic at times. I can’t 
get a soul to touch the proposition.” 

“Well,” began Colvin; but got no further. The tele- 
phone, at his elbow rang smartly and he held the receiver to 
his ear. After a second he beckoned to Heritage. 

“ It’s you they want.” 

He sat back in his chair, his face wrinkled in thought. 
He heard Heritage speaking quickly into the instrument but 
paid no attention to the words. He was recalled to himself 
by an excited thump on the back. Heritage was looking 
down at him with eyes that shone queerly. 

“Bob, d’you know who that was? It was James. You 
remember James? I told you about him some time ago. 
He was one of the first men I saw. It appears now that 
he’s been thinking over what I told him. He’s to help us 
after all. He can’t handle the matter straight out, but he 
thinks he might be able to interest the Vilmy Timber Cor- 
poration. He’s their agent, you know. He wants to see me 
right away.” 

“ Here, hold on a minute,” said Colvin, as Heritage took 
up his hat and made for the door. “ Who are the Vilmy 
Timber Corporation people? I never heard of them.” 

“ Nor I,” called the young man, over his shoulder. “ It’s 


TIMBER WOLVES 205 

my belief though that they are angels in disguise. See you 
later.” 

“ Be careful what you do,” shouted Colvin after him ; 
but there was no reply. 

He sat a moment in deep thought. Then he rang for his 
clerk. 

“Ever hear of the Vilmy Timber Corporation, Seton?” 

“ Only that a firm of that name was registered a couple 
of months ago, Mr. Colvin. Shall I find out?” 

His principal hesitated. 

“ Yes, you might as well. Wait a second ... on second 
thoughts I’ll do it myself. In the meantime get me the 
Tasmanian Government Regulations under the Crown 
Lands Act of 1912. Also hunt me up a map of the island. 
I’ll be back in half an hour.” 

A little later Colvin entered the office of a share-broking 
friend and plumped himself into a chair with the ease of 
old acquaintance. 

“ Ramsay, what do you know of the Vilmy Timber Cor- 
poration, Ltd.? They appear to be newly registered. Am 
I interrupting?” 

“ Not at all,” said the sharebroker sarcastically. “ You 
choose about the busiest hour of the busiest day we’ve had 
for weeks, and then calmly ask if you’re interrupting. 
You’re not an interruption; you’re nothing short of a ca- 
lamity. What’s the matter with you? Oh, the Vilmy Cor- 
poration! Yes, I know a little about them. If I tell you, 
will you clear out ? ” 

“ It’s a bargain,” agreed Colvin unsmilingly. “ Cut 
loose, like a good chap.” 

“ Vilmy Timber Corporation, Pty. Ltd. Estimated cap- 
ital £100,000. Subscribed capital £50,000,” recited the 
sharebroker tersely. “ They registered three months 

ago and their office is in Collins Street. From the 
trade name you’d be apt to think they handled 

nothing but timber. As a matter of fact, they touch it in- 
directly only. They are Finance Loan pure and simple. 
They won’t speculate, though they don’t object to backing 
a cut-and-dried certainty, supposing such a thing to exist. 
So far as I can make out their object is to help the small 
saw-miller and timber-getter. They get him going on his 
own security, handle his stuff for him on commission, and 


TIMBER WOLVES 


206 

sometimes even advance on account of his cut. On the 
whole they appear to be a fairly decent crowd.” 

“ I see. Any connection with the big timber firms ? ” 

Ramsay shook his head. 

“ Why, it’s a funny thing, but the Vilmy crowd appear 
to be right up against the big saw-millers. As a matter of 
fact, they make a point of advertising their opposition to 
the ring. A pretty safe lot, I should imagine. They want 
you to handle their business?” 

“ Not that I know of.” Colvin rose to his feet. 
“ Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll do as much for you, maybe, one of 
these days. By the way, who's running the Vilmy Co. ? ” 

“ Don’t know,” said the sharebroker, already back at his 
work. “ A man named James is Melbourne agent. Try 
him. Sorry, old chap, but I’ve got to keep the wheels go- 
ing round. See you later.” 

Colvin stumped back to his office conscious of a distinct 
feeling of relief. He accepted Ramsay’s information with- 
out reserve. The Vilmy people seemed exactly capable of 
supplying the sort of backing that Heritage required. 
Once they took up the proposition the worst difficulty should 
be past. 

Colvin busied himself immediately with the little pile of 
papers Seton had placed on his desk. He was still im- 
mersed in calculation when Heritage returned. The 
younger man was jubilant. 

“ Bob, the tide’s turning at last. We might have known 
that Frame couldn’t buy up the whole of Melbourne. 
These people are actually against him. James as good as 
told me so. He’s a first-rate fellow, when you get to know 
him.” 

He sat down and beamed. 

“ Bob, it’s as good as done. I wonder how Frame will 
take it ? ” 

Colvin smiled. 

“ Lord, Johnny, you’re like a barometer. Go ahead and 
tell me what happened.” 

“ Well, it seems James hadn’t quite understood me the 
first time. He thought I wanted to put in a mill plant right 
ofif the reel. Of course, anything of that sort is very much 
in the future. We can’t afiford to tackle anything but 


TIMBER WOLVES 


20 7 


staves, palings, and logs. I told him so again. In the end 
James mapped out a definite agreement which he says his 
folk will stand by. It seems a fair enough proposition.” 

“ Terms?” asked Colvin concisely. 

“ They agree to advance what money we want up to 
i5,ooo, as a first loan, and further sums as may be required 
as our lease opens up. Our lease contract is to be lodged 
with them. We guarantee to carry out the full terms of 
the lease, to pay the Vilmy Corporation or their agents 8 
per cent, on all borrowed moneys, and to market our stufif 
through them; paying them commission of 2 Yz per cent, on 
all sales. If we fail to pay rent and interest on a due date, 
the Vilmy Company will pay themselves and charge it 
against us as a further loan. That seems reasonable.” 

“ It’s the usual practice, I believe,” agreed Colvin. 
“ How do you stand for a chance to clear yourself, if things 
go well ? ” 

“ I saw to that,” said Heritage. “ Any time after the 
agreement has been in force for twelve months, we have the 
right to pay back all borrowed moneys. On the other hand, 
we are liable to forfeit. Equally, at the expiration of twelve 
months, the Vilmy people have a right to call up principal 
and interest on three months’ notice in writing. Should 
we be unable to meet the call they can enter and take posses- 
sion of the lease, plant, and other assets we may hold.” 

His partner nodded thoughtfully. 

“ The ordinary business precaution. No other forfeiture 
clause, I suppose ? ” 

Heritage hesitated slightly. 

“ Well, yes. But the possibility is so remote as to be 
almost negligible. James explained that his principals did 
not want permanent investment in any one concern. Once 
they got a firm going they became anxious to withdraw 
their capital and use it over again in the same way. They 
looked to make their fair profit by marketing for all hands. 
The quicker their turn-over, the wider became their connec- 
tion. For this reason they insist that any contract we may 
enter into to supply timber must be rigidly fulfilled. There 
must be no application for extension of time. Failing our 
ability to deliver punctually, they reserve the right to step in 
and take over control. As I said before, however, nothing 


208 


TIMBER WOLVES 


of the kind can be feared. The Vilmy people do not want 
to be bothered with an active interest in any one concern.” 

Colvin shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I don’t altogether like it, but beggars can’t be choosers. 
I suppose you can’t do better than go ahead with the busi- 
ness. Are you placing any contracts before you go back? ” 

“ I’m going the round of the coopers next week. We’ll 
tackle nothing but staves to start with.” 

“ Well, be careful ! ” advised Colvin. 

“ Watch me ! ” smiled the young man reassuringly. “ One 
good safe contract, and I’ll be well satisfied. James thinks 
he can put me on to some one right away. Now I’m going 
away to be busy. You’ll see the dust fly presently.” 

The words were in the nature of a prophecy. For the 
next couple of weeks Heritage worked like a horse, scarcely 
finding time to eat and sleep. The results of his activity, 
however, more than satisfied him. Not only did he com- 
plete arrangements with the Vilmy Company, but he also 
managed to secure a contract with a leading brewery to sup- 
ply a quarter of a million staves by the following autumn. 
Elated, he wired the news of his success to Charley Salter, 
and proceeded under the guidance of the genial James to 
select what tools they required, a list of these having been 
given him previously by the stout cattle dealer. On the 
whole, Heritage was well pleased with the way things were 
going. 

So completely had his work occupied him that for some 
days he scarcely gave a thought to Frame. His arrange- 
ments completed, however, Heritage found time to wonder 
a little at the seeming inactivity of his big opponent. True, 
Frame had nearly succeeded in crippling him at the outset. 
He had all but closed the money market against him. That 
he had not done so was due solely to the unreckoned ex- 
istence of philanthropy in the shape of the Vilmy Timber 
Corporation, a venture seemingly without business parallel. 
The young man could hardly restrain a chuckle at thought 
of Frame’s discomfiture. 

Of Winifred Frame, Heritage had seen nothing. In a 
way, he was thankful for this. He shrank, not unnaturally, 
from a necessity to justify himself anew. He guessed in- 
stinctively that the girl would unhesitatingly accept her 
father’s view-point and condemn him utterly. The thought 


TIMBER WOLVES 


209 


troubled him not at all. He was surprised to discover with 
what complete absence of sentiment he was able to remem- 
ber Win. Yet only a few weeks back he had fancied him- 
self to be in love with her. 

It remained for Colvin to test him finally on this point. 
The lawyer had dropped in at Heritage’s hotel on the morn- 
ing of the young man’s second departure for Timber Bend. 
There was a hint of worry in his greeting. 

“ Well, Johnny, the tug-of-war is to come. We ought to 
win out. In fact, there shouldn’t be a doubt of it. I’ve 
gone into this thing with you over and over again. So far 
as human judgment and foresight can count, the venture 
should be a safe one. It’s the unknown quantity I’m fright- 
ened of. I tell you what it is, Jack. I’ve been in the one 
groove for so many years that I haven’t the nerve for a 
straight-out fight of this sort. I doubt if you have either. 
If it wasn’t for those agricolean friends of yours I should 
be in a state of almost hopeless pessimism.” 

Heritage grinned. 

“ Diddums get frightened then, Bob? Frame is a great 
bluffer. He’s even got you rattled. Yes, he’s a great 
bluffer.” 

But Colvin refused to respond. 

“ Don’t be too sure of it ! ” 

He looked searchingly at his friend. 

“ By the way, I met Winifred Frame yesterday. Want 
to hear the news ? ” 

“ Shoot, Colonel ! ” invited Heritage promptly. 

“ She told me she had just become engaged to be married. 
The name of the fortunate gentleman did not transpire.” 

So far from losing countenance Heritage was conscious 
of a feeling of almost relief. He shocked his partner by 
bursting into a hearty laugh. 

“ I congratulate him, whoever he is. Don’t look so dis- 
appointed, Bob. Did you expect me to faint with despair? 
Was any reference made to my worthy self?” 

“ She entrusted me with a message which I hesitate to 
deliver. It consists of five words only. Sure you’re 
proof? ” 

“ Try me,” said Heritage, flushing slightly. 

“ ‘ Tell Jack he’s a fool,’ ” quoted Colvin gravely. “ Un- 
ladylike, perhaps ; but infinitely to the point. There was an 


210 


TIMBER WOLVES 


air of finality about the utterance which led me to suppose 
she knew just exactly what she was talking about. I pre- 
sume the allusion was to your defiance of her father. Or 
did it refer to your loss of herself, do you think?” 

Heritage rose laughing to gather his traps. 

“I don’t know or care! Yes, I mean just that, Bob. 
I’m as well cured as any ham. So far as I’m concerned I 
don’t suppose I shall meet the Frames again, unless by ac- 
cident.” 

“ Maybe you won’t,” muttered Colvin to himself, as he 
went out into the street. “ No, I suppose you won’t.” 

But his thought somehow lacked conviction. 


CHAPTER XIII 


HARLEY SALTER drove to Green Valley to meet 
Heritage. The stout man went off in a simmer of 



excitement. His own arrangements complete, he 
waited now only the return of Heritage to commence opera- 
tions in earnest. He was burning with impatience to hear 
the details of the young man’s success; anxious also to 
impart, in turn, news of his own and Pete Diamond’s doings 
in the interim. 

On the afternoon of the same day Pete finally shifted 
camp from the coast. With the coming of spring the big 
cattleman had discarded his cumbersome bluey and thick 
leather leggings. Clad only in his shirt sleeves, as the 
phrase has it, the magnificent proportions of the man were 
more than ever discernible. He rode like a Centaur; the 
embodiment of ease and sure-footed determination. Jean 
Salter, watching from her veranda while he rode into the 
yards, felt her heart warm with pride. She ran to meet 
him. Pete caught her in a bear’s embrace. 

“Jeannie . . . Jeannie, what a witch you are! I ain’t 
been happy since I been away. Well, it’s all settled at last. 
I’ve cleaned up on the run, and they’re sending a new man 
along early next week.” 

He held the girl away from him, looking into her flushed 
face adoringly. 

“ Ready for the scrap, little woman? Jack comes back 
to-night, don’t he? We’ll need to be getting busy. How 
are you going to board the both of us ? ” 

“ When Mr. Heritage is away from camp he will go to 
Adaires,” said Jean. She saw Pete’s black eyes twinkle, 
and broke into an amused laugh. “ Now do be good, Pete, 
and not tease. I know just what you’re thinking; so you 
may save yourself the trouble of saying it. We had to come 
to some arrangement. You couldn’t expect mother to cook 
enough for three great useless men. Peggy must take her 
share.” 


211 


212 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Match-maker,” accused the cattleman. “ Well, then I’ll 
be good. Jeannie, when are we going to that dream farm 
of ours ? Ain’t I tamed enough yet ? ” 

She met his worshiping eyes with a frank tenderness in 
her own blue ones. 

“ Don’t be impatient, Boy. Just a little longer. The time 
will surely come.” She broke off ; to repeat almost pas- 
sionately, “ It must come. Oh, Pete, life is such a beautiful 
thing.” 

“ Sure. But you ain’t to think any other way, you 
know,” Pete reminded her gently. “ You got an idea they’s 
something going to hurt us. It ain’t so. I keep telling you 
it ain’t so. It’s jess a wrong notion that’s took you. Why, 
Jeannie, you know they’s nothing could keep me from you 
if you was to call. I’d hear you from the other end of the 
earth. This timber concern is worrying you, that’s what it 
is. But don’t you fret. We’re going to win out.” 

But a change had come over the girl. She seemed more 
thoughtful, even timorous. “ I hope so. It wouldn’t do to 
believe otherwise. Pete, I wanted to ask you about Sadie 
Williams. We seldom see her now. I sometimes think she 
avoids us purposely. And she looks so ill, poor girl. It 
worries me. Have you any idea what is wrong? ” 

“ Not the least in the world,” said the cattleman. “ Sadie 
ain’t been herself this long time. Maybe that big brute 
Login has been teasing her. He’s all mean, that man. I 
never could make out why Sadie bothered with him. Wim- 
men is queer creatures. They seem to love without rhyme 
or reason. I’ve no kick against that. Where’d I be, if it 
weren’t so? I kind of wish we could do something for 
Sadie. That old father of hers ain’t much good. Yet I 
doubt she could bring herself to leave him.” 

“ She would not,” declared Jean positively. “ Sadie has 
a very strong sense of her duty. Poor child ! If only her 
mother had lived how different it might have been. I hope 
she remembers that we are her friends.” 

While tea was being set Pete busied himself at the stables. 
Afterwards, he sat with Jean on the veranda waiting the 
return of Salter and Heritage. At the soft murmur of 
their voices Mrs. Salter, knitting by the open window of the 
kitchen, smiled a little wistfully. At times her own buoy- 
ant, rose-tinted youth came very near to her. Fortune had 


TIMBER WOLVES 


213 

passed her by, but she still had her man. Her staunch old 
heart refused resolutely to acknowledge defeat. 

In the spell of the dusk the plains lay gray and brown, a 
dim, silent vista dreaming in the afterglow of the fallen sun. 
From beyond the rim of the horizon came the languorous 
whisper of the tide washing the bar on the mouth of the Bat 
River. The air was odorous of summer. 

Jean Salter, drinking in the beauty of the twilight, pres- 
ently touched her companion’s arm. Pete looked round 
with a quick smile. 

“Well, old girl, what is it?” 

She gave a little sigh of contentment. 

“ I was just thinking how beautiful it all is — how I love 
it ! The brown rolling plains ; the great, silent forest ; the 
little open glades between the knolls, all soon to be carpeted 
by wee flowers and echoing drowsily to the humming of 
bees ; the eternal song of the sea ; the clear, open skies and 
the bright sunshine. And at night the stars and the silence 
and the whisper of the wind in the gums. Oh, Pete, I never 
want to leave the out-back. I just couldn’t be happy herded 
with others in the city, like animals penned for slaughter. 
Boy . . . promise me. You’ll never want to take me away 
from the beautiful coast. I want to live here always. I 
want to rest here when I die.” 

The big fellow patted her hand soothingly. 

“ Why, Jeannie, you know it’ll always be jess as you say. 
We ain’t thinking about dying though. We’re going to live. 
I reckon I think as you do. The plains is good enough for 
me. Wait till we get that dream farm of ours.” 

“ Somehow thought of the future frightens me,” resumed 
the girl, after a little silence. “ I’m frightened of Frame 
and Garraway, and what they may try to do. Have you 
noticed the wild, rough class of men that Garraway gathers 
about him? Those men call themselves bush hands. In a 
sense, so they are; but only in a sense. They don’t really 
belong here at all. They don’t fit in. They’re outsiders. 
There seems to be something wrong about every one of 
them.” 

Pete laughed contemptuously. 

“Them? Don’t you worry about them, Jeannie. They 
ain’t worth a thought of your worry. Garraway picks his 
men purposely for the hard cases that they are. And what 


214 


TIMBER WOLVES 


are they? They’re crooks, hide-outs, lay-off men — every 
man jack of them. They’re men that ain’t game to walk 
the cities. They come here where they ain’t known and lay 
low. I know their sort, but they don’t scare me. They’s 
no way that they can come at us to really hurt us. Even if 
they was, we can give them as good as we get. I’m as hard 
case as any of them, if it comes to that.” 

Jean looked at him quickly. 

“ Pete . . . don’t. I can’t bear to hear that savage note 
in your voice. What you say about Garraway’s men may 
be true. But don’t you see it is the thought of your re- 
taliation that troubles me most. You mustn’t ever give 
cause again. You’ll want to hit back, and I can’t blame you. 
But it wouldn’t do. Boy, d’you hear me? It wouldn’t 
do. You’ve too much to lose. Besides, we can win fairly. 
And even if we didn’t win, even if we were beaten badly, it 
wouldn’t hurt so much so that we could remember our hands 
were clean.” 

Pete kept silence for a full minute. When he spoke his 
voice was strangely gentle. 

“ Jeannie, I doubt we’ll be wise to play Gar ra way fair. 
Them sort wouldn’t understand. All the same, I’ll do my 
best. I’ll go along real peaceable, so long as I’m let. Only 
remember, a man ain’t always keeping his head. They’s 
a limit with us all.” 

There was an undercurrent of dejection in the big fel- 
low’s tones. None knew better than he that his continued 
loyalty to the restraining influence of the girl at his side had 
weakened him immensely in the opinions of the wilder spir- 
its on the coast. These men, dull of perception as they were 
keen of malicious purpose, placed an entirely wrong con- 
struction on his forbearance. They grew daily more bold. 
By sullen looks and growing insolence of speech and man- 
ner they sought to whip him finally from his pride of place. 
Pete smiled grimly at thought of the immensity of their 
mistake. 

With Jean the mood had passed. The night was calling 
her to admiration of the far-reaching horizon, studded with 
sapphire stars that waned to silvery nothingness even as she 
watched them. A soft patter of feet made her look down. 
She gave an exclamation of pleasure. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


215 

“Pup! Is it you, doggie? How did you get loose? 
And where have you been to, eh ? ” 

The animal looked up at her with luminous eyes. He 
whined softly and raised his fore-paws to her knee. The 
girl bent her head and fondled the smooth head lovingly. 
She smiled as Pete’s voice broke out discontentedly. 

“ Now ain’t that nice for me? If they’s any hugging to 
be done, why, I’m right here, ain’t I ? Pup, he’s a good 
dog, but he ain’t able to appreciate. Now me? I’m . . .” 

“ There they are at last,” broke in Jean. She looked at 
Pete mischievously. “ Here endeth the lover’s lament. 
Now do be good, or they will see you.” 

She dodged deftly beneath his eager hand and ran laugh- 
ing to meet the arrivals. When Pete caught up she was al- 
ready swinging open the yard gates. Charley Salter 
chuckled a welcome as he drove in. 

“Well, I’ve got him all right; ain’t I, Jack? We’re the 
original pair of aces, him and me. With a little help we can 
lick creation on its own dust-heap.” 

The smug satisfaction of the stout man called forth a 
remonstrance from Pete. 

“ You do hate yourself, don’t you. Anyone would think 
that you two were going to do it all. Wait till Garraway 
gets going and see if you ain’t hollering out for little Jean 
and Peter.” 

Later, as he lay thankfully in his bed, Heritage was able 
to review their preparations in the light of what Salter had 
told him. The stout man had been energy itself. Immedi- 
ately upon putting in his application for leasehold, he had 
begun his preparations for a summer camp on his original 
finding. Tents were pitched within a wide circle 
of open ground close to the river bank. Already men were 
engaged in track cutting, and the dozen and one minor steps 
preparatory to commencing work in earnest. Most satis- 
factory of all Salter had succeeded in securing them an out- 
let to the Government tramline. In relating this piece of 
good news the stout man had beamed with satisfied pride. 

“ It was the one thing that troubled me,” he confessed 
to Heritage, as they drove along. “ Most everything else 
was fixed. We had our application in for the lease; we’d 
selected site for camp; and Pete had rounded up some of 


2l6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the handiest bush-whackers on the coast. But we hadn’t no 
outlet. I tell you it worried me badly. And then I thought 
of Jerry Jones and lit right over to see him. In the end I 
managed to strike a bargain. We lease right-of-way down 
the edge of Jerry’s east side-line. I’ve got the thing in 
black and white. Frame can bawl all he wants but he can’t 
alter that. Yes, I reckon we’re beginning well.” 

Heritage was better able to appreciate the stout man’s 
boast when he visited their camp early next morning. 
Everywhere around was evidence of activity. Among the 
many surprises awaiting the young man was the discovery 
of George Judney and his mate Solium presiding over the 
cooking arrangements. 

“ Well, upon my word, what part in this joke are you two 
taking? ” he inquired of the grinning Solium. “ They never 
told me a word about your being here. I’m jolly glad to 
see you.” 

Judney uttered no greeting, but his hand-grip made Heri- 
tage wince. The lank hut-keeper’s melancholy, bearded 
face was wrinkled approvingly. 

Solium ventured on an explanation. 

“ Why, you see Charley Salter was wanting some one to 
do the odd jobs around camp, so me and George took it on. 
We kind of thought we’d like to help spoke Gar ra way’s 
wheel, anyway.” 

“ Good enough,” said Heritage enthusiastically. “ Well, 
George, how’s your red-headed Venus, eh? What’s her 
name ? Sadie, isn’t it ? Been making you any tea lately ? ” 

Judney shook his head. 

“ I ain’t seen her for quite a time. And I ain’t had a 
drink of real tea either.” 

He regarded his grinning partner with sour disfavor. 

“ When you done hee-hawing, you can let us know. For 
a cook you’re no seventh child of a seventh child, anyhow.” 

A sudden thought had occurred to Heritage. He looked 
at Solium curiously. 

“ Joe, what’s your second name? ” 

The little man looked at him blankly. 

“ Meaning? ” he asked. 

“Your surname? You’re Joe what?” 

Solium scratched his head in perplexity. 

“ Why, hang me, if I don’t disremember ! Most always, 


TIMBER WOLVES 


217 

you see, I’m called jess Joe, or maybe Solium. They’s let- 
ters inside somewhere, if I could find them.” 

“Would you know it when you heard it?” asked Heri- 
tage, skeptically. He was thinking to himself, “Of course, 
it’s too absurd; but I can’t afford to miss a chance.” The 
idea of Solium turning out to be the man he wanted was 
too fanciful to take seriously. 

“ I might, but I dunno. Yes, I b’lieve I should. I’ll 
turn up them letters anyhow.” 

“ It wouldn’t be Barkley, for instance ? ” suggested Heri- 
tage, almost apologetically. 

“ Ain’t that the man you was looking for ? ” Solium’s 
grin suddenly faded. He looked almost startled. “ It 
wouldn’t be Barkley, says you. Why, dang me, if I don’t 
b’lieve it is something like that ! That’s funny now, ain’t 
it? Jess you wait a second.” 

Heritage and George Judney eyed one another in silence 
while the little man rummaged the contents of a small 
hand-bag which he produced from beneath his bunk. Pres- 
ently he held out an envelope. On his face was a relieved 
grin. 

Heritage snatched at the paper eagerly. 

“ 4 Mr. Joseph Fox? ’ ” he read out. 

George Judney broke into a rumble of scornful laughter. 
“Fox? Well, if that ain’t jess like Solium. ‘Barkley, is 
it?’ says Joe. ‘Why, I b’lieve that’s me,’ says he. And 
his name is Fox.” 

The little man waited patiently for his friend’s mirth to 
subside. He appeared in no wise disconcerted. 

“ Well, I knew they was a bark in it somewhere,” he said 
cheerfully. The atrocious joke helped to cover Heritage’s 
quite unreasonable feeling of disappointment. He departed 
laughing. 

Early in the next week Heritage took his first lesson in 
timber felling under the amused guidance of Steve Strang- 
ways, one of Pete’s helpers from down south. The work 
was bitterly hard and often distinctly dangerous. Never- 
theless he stuck to it doggedly enough. He never forgot 
that first week. His hands blistered and cracked, his back 
and shoulders ached consumedly. He would have given 
worlds to drop out, but his pride would not allow him. He 
kept dizzily on, his hands and feet obeying mechanically the 


2l8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


insistence of his will. At nightfall he crawled into camp 
long after the others. Almost too tired to eat, he lay with 
relaxed limbs, his body oppressed with a weariness he had 
not thought it possible to endure. When food was offered 
him he took it dazedly, falling asleep almost before he had 
finished masticating. The nights were a torment. 

Gradually, however, he was aware of a change. As one 
day followed another there crept into his veins something 
of the sap and vigor of the great timber in which he 
worked. His eyes brightened ; his limbs no longer ached so 
unbearably, the feeling of lassitude left him. To his amaze- 
ment he found himself beginning to love the work, to look 
forward eagerly to what the morrow might bring of task 
and problem. His chest deepened. He began to breathe as 
if he liked it — long, delicious breaths of the wine-like air 
that filled the bush. With the strengthening of his body 
came also a tremendous development of spirit. The stub- 
born vigor of the mighty forest no longer oppressed him. 
It challenged his imagination as nothing else could have 
done. To match his own strength against it seemed the one 
purpose of his existence. Unconsciously he ripened to the 
heritage of his manhood. 

There were times, however, when his new-born confidence 
received rude check. The bush was like a huge giant slum- 
beringly tolerant of the Lilliputian efforts of man to enslave 
it. On occasions it would become galvanized into a thing 
of horror. Of a sudden would come a south-westerly gale 
that lashed the forest to a frenzy of action. Huge trees 
uprooted, crashing to earth with a roar that stilled even the 
tumultuous shoutings of the wind demons ; the bush echoed 
with the artillery of snapping stems and the reverberating 
clap of the storm as it flung itself against a wall of wildly 
swaying timber; the air was full of flying branches torn 
ruthlessly from the parent stem and borne shrieking on the 
fore-front of the ravaging enemy. 

At such times men shrank appalled to the comparative 
safety of the camps; work became at a standstill until the 
fury of the gale lessened. Yet be they cautious as they 
might, the bush would take its toll of life and limb. Heri- 
tage sickened at more than one ghastly evidence of the un- 
conquerable animosity of the great bushland. He saw men 
gashed dreadfully by the skidding of an axe, or the careless 


TIMBER WOLVES 


219 


fixing of a tool. He saw them carried past him maimed 
and bleeding as the result of a mistaken judgment, or mo- 
mentary forgetfulness. Tree trunks side-jumped, or ran-up 
unexpectedly ; heads lodged ; giant blackwoods trembling to 
the last blow of the axe or drive of the wedge, turned on the 
stump and came back. Once Heritage’s axe mate was 
struck on the temple by a flying twig catapulted from the 
swaying head of a scroughed myrtle. The man dropped on 
his face among the ferns and rubbish with no more than a 
kind of surprised grunt. Heritage bathed his face with 
cold tea from a billy, and the man recovered sufficiently to 
stumble into camp and collapse on his bunk. Later he be- 
came unconscious again. Heritage and three others rigged a 
stretcher of corn sacks threaded on gum poles, and started 
to carry the injured man to meet the doctor hastily tele- 
phoned for from Green Valley, fifteen miles away. Herit- 
age never forgot that journey. Their burden was a giant 
bushman, over six feet in height, and broad in proportion. 
His skull had been fractured, and at intervals he shook in 
convulsions. When that happened the stretcher bearers were 
forced to halt; standing, often as not, knee deep in swamp. 
The strain, physically and mentally, was terrific. And, as 
it proved, quite unavailing. The man died even as they 
sighted the doctor’s j inker in the distance. 

Despite his inexperience Heritage went unscathed. The 
proverbial luck of the new chum held to him faithfully. 
With the approach of summer, gales became less frequent. 
To that extent, at least, the dangers of their work were 
reduced. The days lengthened perceptibly. The air grew 
softer. The bush took on a lighter hue. On the open plain 
there sprang suddenly a carpet of tiny flowers and silken 
moss. The jutting knolls along the coast became gorgeous 
with the green and scarlet of the pig-face. Birds twittered 
in the bushes. Almost before they realized it the long cold 
days of winter were gone, and the spirit of summer de- 
scended on the coastlands in a flood of golden, sun-kissed 
days. 

Charley Salter had long since dropped his characteristic 
attitude of easy-going unconcern. He knew himself to be 
facing the fight of his life-time, the one chance of his genial 
existence to make good to some purpose. From the very 
beginning he made his friends and partners confidants of 


220 


TIMBER WOLVES 


his plans. Wisely he had decided to restrict their initial op- 
erations to felling and splitting only. To attempt haulage 
or cartage during the wet season was to court failure. Only 
with the approach of summer would the ground stand the 
traffic in view. Even then would be discovered various pot- 
holes along the way which must needs be bottomed la- 
boriously with saplings and brush before the heavy drays 
could pass over safely. The stout leader became increas- 
ingly serious as one problem after another was faced and 
solved. His loquacity gave place to a grim-lipped silence. 
He worked untiringly. 

One thing alone bothered Salter. This was the apparent 
indifference of Slum Garraway to their manifest progress. 
The fact worried the stout man not a little. Wily old fox 
that he was, he sought continually for a reason, casting here 
and there in his mind in an effort to reconcile the irreconcil- 
able. In the end he decided to let time elucidate the nature 
of the opposition which common-sense warned him was in 
course of preparation. The blow fell without warning of 
any kind. 

Steve Strangways returned to camp early one afternoon. 
Heritage was busily figuring at the packing case that served 
for a desk. Salter sat nursing a raw heel, his little twink- 
ling eyes misty with thought. With the exception of George 
Judney the rest of the men were at work in the bush. 

The new-comer wasted no time in preliminaries. 

“ I thought you told us it was all right to open a track 
down Jones’ side-line, Charley.” 

“ Why, so I did ! ” the stout man assured him. 

Strangways grinned apologetically. 

“ Some of Garraway’s men are holding up the boundary,” 
he explained. “ They won’t let us enter. They got a tres- 
pass notice posted.” 

“ The hell they have ! ” exploded Salter. His small eyes 
spun angrily. “ Look here, Steve, you ought to know bluff 
when you meet it. I tell you we’re renting that ground from 
Jones. I got the whole thing down in black and white. 
You get right back and throw Slum’s crowd into the river. 
That strip of land belongs to us.” 

The man looked at his boss curiously. 

“ That’s what I told them, but they only laughed. They 
claim to have you by the short hair. All I could get out of 


TIMBER WOLVES 


221 


them was for you to get across and see Slum for yourself. 
So of course I come along and told you.” 

Salter continued to pull at his ragged mustache in wrath- 
ful silence. Heritage, scenting trouble, looked up anxiously. 

“ Sure your agreement with Terry Jones was quite all 
right ? ” he asked. 

“ Right as rain ! ” declared the stout man. He thought a 
moment. “No, I can’t see where they’ve got us. That 
strip of land is rented us for as long as we like. I reckon 
we’d best hear what it is that Slum wants to tell us. How 
about you seeing him, Jack? I’d go myself, only my heel 
ain’t well. George can go along with you. They’s times it 
does no harm to have company. I wish Pete were here. 
Well, what say ? ” 

“ I suppose it’s the only thing to do,” agreed the young 
man. “ The quicker we learn what the trouble is, the 
better.” 

“ Well, don’t lose your block, whatever you do,” advised 
Salter. “ Keep your mouth shut mostly, but your eyes and 
ears wide open. I don’t aim to get into holts with them yet 
awhile. Jess find out what you can and then come back.” 

With George Judney at his elbow, Heritage made his way 
down the line to Frame’s camp. They found Garraway at 
work in his office. The big manager returned their greet- 
ing coolly. 

“ Well, what can I do for you?” 

Unasked Heritage selected a chair and sat down, his face 
towards the open window. A number of men were grouped 
around a log stack by the mill head. Amongst them he 
thought he recognized the slinking figure of Gus Rebner. 
Of Login there was no sign. 

Garraway was looking at him impatiently. 

“ You want to see me? ” he asked abruptly. 

“ I do, Mr. Garraway. The fact is, there appears to be 
some misunderstanding with some of your men. Some time 
back we leased a strip of ground along Jerry Jones’ property. 
Your men now refuse to allow us to enter. Of course, we 
recognize their action is without your approval; probably 
without your knowledge. Under the circumstances, I 
thought it better to ask you personally to order them to 
vacate. We don’t want trouble with any one, if it can be 
avoided,” 


222 


TIMBER WOLVES 


The manager smiled unpleasantly. 

“ You’re rushing things a bit, aren’t you? You take too 
much for granted. Any misunderstanding there is must be 
on your side. Did I understand you to say you had rented 
that strip of ground? You claim right-of-way there? 
Since when ? ” 

Heritage was frankly puzzled. 

“ Why, for weeks. Of course we claim right-of-way. 
I can’t see your need to quibble. We pay monthly rental 
for that land.” 

“ You don’t tell me that! ” Garraway looked at him with 
an insolent assumption of surprise. “ That’s too bad, that 
is. Jones never said a word about it to us. Otherwise I’m 
certain we never should have bought.” 

“Bought?” 

“ Why, you knew that surely. We made no secret of 
the matter. We needed that bit of ground for a haulage 
track. Jones sold right out to Frame a week ago. He’s 
gone to live on the mainland, they tell me.” 

With the realization of how they had been tricked, 
Heritage became angry. He broke into swift expostu- 
lation. 

“ The thing’s grossly dishonest. You knew our arrange- 
ments with Jones perfectly. As for you needing that land 
for a haulage track, the idea is absurd. A haulage track 
where to? Where from? So far as you’re concerned it’s 
a blind alley. It leads to nowhere except to ground occu- 
pied by us.” 

Heritage glanced at George Judney, but the lank hut- 
keeper was gazing stolidly out of the window. The little 
group of men by the log stack had broken up. By ones 
and twos they were approaching the office. The young man 
got to his feet and faced Garraway. His eyes were snap- 
ping. 

“ Mr. Garraway, from the very beginning I was warned 
that you couldn’t fight fairly. I refused to believe it. I can 
see I was wrong. I can see now exactly the class of men 
I’m dealing with. Let me tell you that you’ve just made 
one of the biggest mistakes of your life. In spite of what 
you’ve done — in spite of anything you can do, we’re going 
to beat you. And when we’ve beaten you, we’ll make you 


TIMBER WOLVES 


223 


pay for every dirty trick you’ve played. Why . . . you’re 
nothing better than a lot of worn-out crooks. We’ll beat 
you till you wonder how it happened.” 

Even as he spoke he realized to the full the absurdity of 
the threat he uttered, the impossibility of realization. With- 
out an outlet they were helpless. Stark ruin faced them 
all. The injustice of what had happened made him choke. 
He felt actually sick. 

Garraway too had risen. His prominent eyes were fixed 
on his approaching men, and he burst into sudden anger. 

“ That’ll do from you. You set yourself up to compete 
with your betters, and now you’ll take what’s coming to 
you. Did you think a man like Sam Frame was going to 
dance to a tune of your piping? Why, when the old man’s 
through with you there won’t be enough backbone among 
the lot of you to stiffen a pan of dough. Get out of my 
office and take your snivelling home to that fat fraud, Sal- 
ter.” 

Heritage was about to reply when he felt Judney’s hand 
touch his arm meaningly. The gaunt hut-keeper’s sunken 
eyes held a curious glitter. He muttered softly, “ Get out- 
side and in the open. Hurry! they’s some game doing. I 
reckon they was jess waiting for some of us to come along. 
Get a hold on your temper.” 

Garraway followed them to the door of the building. At 
sight of his grinning face Heritage forgot the hut-keeper’s 
admonition. With angry relish he repeated his former 
gibe.” 

“ You’re nothing better than a lot of cheap crooks. 
You’re what Salter calls you — timber wolves.” 

Gus Rebner, coming up in time to hear the words, threw 
a swift look towards Garraway. The manager nodded im- 
perceptibly. In his eyes was a kind of malicious expecta- 
tion. 

Rebner threw down the tool he was carrying. In a sin- 
gle stride he planted himself in front of Heritage. 

“Was you including me in that lot?” 

The man’s tigerish glare, no less than the burning inso- 
lence of his tone, made his intentions plain. He was set- 
ting himself deliberately to force a quarrel under conditions 
favorable to himself. The recognition of Rebner’s anta- 


224 


TIMBER WOLVES 


gonism steadied Heritage immediately. He became at once 
cool and alert. Confident in a belief in his own ability to 
take care of himself, he made no attempt to dodge the issue. 

“ You can please yourself ! ” he retorted swiftly. 

Out of the tail of his eye he saw George Judney edging 
to one side. He wondered quickly if the hut-keeper were 
seeking to keep himself from the trouble impending. The 
thought no sooner entered his mind than he was heartily 
ashamed of it. Whatever else Judney was he was certainly 
no craven. 

“ What’s that you say? ” asked Rebner. Heritage’s readi- 
ness to take up the challenge evidently surprised him. The 
voices of the watching men hushed expectantly. 

“ I said you can please yourself,” repeated Heritage 
evenly. “ I reckon there is no difference to choose between 
any of you. From your boss down, you’re a set of sharp- 
ing black-guards.” 

Rebner’s response was characteristic of the man. His 
teeth bared suddenly in a grin of fury. Without an in- 
stant’s warning his heavily-shod right foot shot out in a kick 
at Heritage’s knee-cap. He missed by only a fraction. Be- 
fore he could recover his balance Heritage hit him twice in 
lightning succession, ducking beautifully to avoid the wild 
swing that followed. Grunting, Rebner came back at him. 
His right fist, swinging from his side in a tremendous up- 
per-cut, caught Heritage unprepared and sent him reeling. 
More by instinct than anything else he managed to evade 
the shower of blows with which Rebner followed up his 
momentary success. Heritage could only counter weakly 
in reply. Above the drumming in his ears sounded the shrill 
cry of George Judney. 

“ Break, Jack! Break, you fool!” 

By a tremendous effort Heritage fought himself clear of 
the corner to which he was being gradually driven. Over- 
confidence had all but brought about his undoing. At in- 
fighting Rebner was proving more than his master. At all 
costs he must avoid his opponent’s wild-cat dexterity in this 
respect. Heritage backed away cautiously, his guard held 
low down. Miraculously his head had cleared. He faced 
Rebner with a grin. 

A second time the section boss rushed him. Heritage 
side-stepped and the blow missed him by inches. Swinging 


TIMBER WOLVES 


225 


short round he smashed a counter to Rebner’s ear. Before 
he could get away, however, he received in return a slam 
over the heart that made him gasp. He began to wonder 
just how much more he could stand. 

Suddenly Rebner tried to trip him. The trick nearly suc- 
ceeded. Moved to fresh anger at the foul, Heritage loosed 
a succession of stinging drives. His opponent grunted and 
came back for more. He got it. Heritage’s fist met him 
squarely on the side of the neck and Rebner went head- 
long to his knees. The watching men roared. 

Rebner’s face was shredded. One of his eyes was closed. 
He came at Heritage with a bellow of fury. By now the 
blood of both men was fairly up. They met toe to toe, hit- 
ting furiously. Another smashing blow over the heart 
brought Heritage to remembrance of his former mistake, 
and he broke away almost suffocating. Rebner was begin- 
ning to weaken. He caught his breath in gulps. His re- 
maining eye followed Heritage in a stare of hate. He com- 
menced a torrent of abuse. 

Suddenly, without warning of any kind, Rebner sprang 
aside and caught up a slash-hook from a heap of tools be- 
side a stump. His arms went up over his head; he seemed 
to fairly lift his body into the air as he made ready for the 
blow. With Judney’s frightened scream of warning beat- 
ing at his ears Heritage launched himself forward in a sin- 
gle leap. Once, twice he struck at the unguarded bull 
throat of his enemy. So swift was the action that Rebner 
was taken by surprise. He was unable to get a balance for 
his weapon. At the first smack of Heritage’s fist on his 
jugular, the slash-hook dropped from his half-paralyzed 
hands. He lurched in drunkenly. Heritage’s second blow, 
swung with all the force of desperation, landed squarely on 
the angle of his jaw. With hardly a sound Rebner 
crumpled in a heap on the ground. 

What followed was in the nature of a nightmare. On a 
sudden Heritage found himself the center of a shouting, 
swearing throng. Blows were aimed at him. He heard 
Garraway shouting excitedly. Then all at once he was 
aware of George Judney at his elbow. The lank hut-keeper 
was working his long arms like flails. Before his terrific 
blows men cringed and broke back. He called pantingly 
to Heritage: 


226 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Get round and guard my back. Be ready to duck when 
I shout. Quick! . . . before Slum mixes in.” 

Half dazed Heritage complied as best he could. He 
warded off a couple of blows aimed viciously at the hut- 
keeper’s bobbing head. Then a muscular arm went round 
his neck in a strangle hold and he was jerked rudely off his 
feet. He opened his mouth to yell, but his cramped lungs 
would not respond. Luckily at that moment Judney turned 
and saw what was happening. He came back with a rush. 
Heritage’s unseen assailant released his hold a second too 
late. Before he could get his hands up Judney drove a bony 
elbow into his face and the man fell out with a yelp of pain. 
An instant later the two friends were clear, and racing un- 
shamedly down the tramline. Strangely enough no attempt 
at pursuit was made. 

Once around the bend Judney dropped into a walk. 
Presently he halted outright, turning to Heritage with some- 
thing like a gleam of admiration in his deep-set eyes. 

“ Well, that certainly was one hell of a mix-up. I kind 
of judge we ain’t over popular back yonder. You’d almost 
have thought they didn’t like us.” He emitted a curious 
little barking laugh. “ Lord, if you could only see your- 
self. You look like a grain of puffed wheat. Won’t Char- 
ley Salter feel bucked up to hear of things.” 

“ That’s open to suspicion,” said the young man, rather 
shortly. Judney’s complacent acceptance of the situation 
almost annoyed him. In addition, he was feeling far from 
pleased at his own inability to steer clear of vulgar brawling. 
So far from doing any good it was probable that actual 
harm might result from his action in punishing Rebner. 
Less than ever now would Garraway be disposed to meet 
them fairly. 

Judney, however, refused to despond. Except for the 
melancholy, natural to his voice, his attitude revealed al- 
most satisfaction. 

" Shake,” he said, holding out his hand. “ The way you 
dealt it out to Gus Rebner was a treat. I never guessed you 
had it in you. I’m kind of proud about it. It was jess the 
kind of boiling scrap I used to see old Bill Hardie put up. 
I’m sort of sorry Bill wasn’t along to see you do it.” 

“ Who was Bill Hardie ? ” inquired Heritage. It was a 
question he had often felt prompted to ask. Both Judney 


TIMBER WOLVES 


227 


and Solium appeared to make overmuch of the individual 
in question. The exact identity of the lauded one, how- 
ever, seemed strangely elusive. He was, and he was not. 
Heritage was often puzzled to account for the not very 
definite intrusion into the conversation of the two friends, 
of Bill Hardie — prodigy. 

At the directness of the question Judney seemed momen- 
tarily taken aback. He looked at Heritage with a shade of 
uneasiness. 

“ Why ... I reckon he was . . . jess Bill Hardie. He 
was a friend of Solium’s. Yes, I reckon he was a friend of 
Solium’s.” He changed the subject rather hastily. “ My, 
the boys will be tickled to hear what’s been doing. The way 
you done up Frame’s mob was something to write home 
about.” 

“ Only for you they’d have done me up,” disclaimed Heri- 
tage. He essayed a smile with swollen lips. The hut- 
keeper flung up a horrified hand. 

“ For the love of Mike don’t . . . don’t-try to smile, I 
mean ! Come on home and get your face in a sling. It 
looks like it was trod on by a working bullock. My, Rebner 
didn’t get it all ! ” 

Charley Salter received the news of the enemy’s coup in 
silence. Judney’s none too modest description of the scrap 
that ensued, however, caused the stout man’s little eyes to 
shine with pleasure. 

“ I always knew he could fight,” he said, nodding towards 
Heritage, who was trying to sluice some of the dirt and 
blood from his battered face. “ Why, the first time I ever 
seen him he was landing Jerry Summers one on the bean. 
Whoof ! . . . jess like that. I can hear the sound of it 
yet.” 

“ That’s all very well,” said the object of his gratifica- 
tion, ripping a torn shirt from his back. “ But the fact re- 
mains that we’re in a dickens of a hole, unless we can find 
another outlet. For the life of me I can’t see what we can 
do.” 

“ Nor can I,” agreed Salter, relapsing into his former 
gloom. “ Well, you get right along home to Adaire’s, and 
let Peggy fix your battle scars. When Pete comes in I’ll 
bring him and Jean along up there and we’ll hold a pow- 
wow. They must be some way out.” 


228 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Maybe you wouldn’t mind if me and Solium was to 
come? ” asked Judney unexpectedly. He scowled dejectedly 
at Joe and bit a corner off his plug of twist. “ We’re kind 
of interested.” 

“ Why, certainly, George,” said the stout man absently. 
Already his agile mind plotted a way out of the impasse. 
Without considering the action he rose smartly to his feet. 
Immediately he sat down again with a howl of pain. 

“ Dingbust this sore heel of mine ! I keep forgetting 
about it. Well, get along, Jack. Pete’ll help me along 
when we’re ready.” 

Despite the fact that Heritage had considerably improved 
his personal appearance before leaving camp, he was greeted 
by Peggy with an exclamation of dismay. 

“ It’s quite all right, Miss Adaire,” he assured her. He 
tried to smile, felt his face cracking stiffly, and gave over the 
attempt. George Judney’s caution might not be disregarded. 
“ We had a bit of trouble with some of Garraway’s men, 
and this is the result. I’ve been sent in for repairs.” 

The girl, however, refused to make light of the matter. 
Her concern for his battered face was so evident that the 
young man felt suddenly abashed. As briefly as possible 
he related the events of the afternoon. 

“ What dreadful creatures those men are,” said Peggy 
indignantly. “ How fortunate you escaped when you did. 
And poor George too ! Is he hurt ? ” 

“ Hardly a scratch on him,” said Heritage. “ What a 
loyal mate that man is. He could easily have left me to 
fight my battles alone, but you see he did not. Do you know 
I am coming to have quite an affection for those two old fel- 
lows, George and Solium.” 

Peggy smiled delightedly. 

“ Of course you are. They take some knowing, but once 
you get to understand their funny little ways the rest is 
easy. At first I actually used to pity them. They seemed 
just two poor lonely old men that nobody wanted. What a 
mistake that was. Poor and lonely they may be in a sense, 
but neither one nor the other in the things that really count 
for happiness. They have hearts of gold. In the affection 
they have for each other and for those admitted to their 
friendship they are rich beyond the power of money, have a 
companionship beyond any that wealth can buy. In their 


TIMBER WOLVES 


229 


own way they are thoroughly contented. They certainly 
quarrel abominably between themselves, but that is merely 
a form of affectation. They mean nothing by it. They are 
quite, quite happy. I wish we could all say the same.” 

She ended with a little sigh that caused Heritage to throw 
her a glance of furtive sympathy. On more than one oc- 
casion the young man had imagined her to hold some secret 
unhappiness in her heart. Watching her now he felt more 
than ever assured of it. The thought distressed him be- 
yond measure. Lover-like he longed to help and comfort 
her. Eager words came to his lips but he choked them 
back, afraid that she would not understand. To quieten 
the absurd feeling of nervousness which suddenly possessed 
him he propounded anew the question he had asked of 
George Judney. 

“ Miss Adaire, who is Bill Hardie? I seem never to be 
able to escape that man’s virtues. When I ask Solium about 
him I am referred to George for answer. And when I 
humbly solicit George I am told that Solium will oblige me. 
Beyond that I can’t get any satisfaction at all.” 

Peggy broke into a soft gurgle of laughter. 

“ Oh, those two funny old men. Mr. Heritage, they’re 
frauds — both of them. I’m as certain as I can be (all of 
us are) that Bill Hardie doesn’t exist. As Pete would say, 

‘ they ain’t no such person.’ Bill Hardie is a sort of mascu- 
line Mrs. Harris, an imaginary person designed to act as a 
kind of foil to the wretched boasting of his creators.” 

“ That’s exactly the conclusion I had reached,” said Heri- 
tage, holding back a grin with difficulty. “ Bill Hardie is an 
utterly impossible creature. I’m sure I shall one day tax 
George outright about his deceit. I wonder what he would 
say.” 

“ Oh, don’t do that,” said the girl quickly. “ What can 
it matter whether Bill Hardie is real or not. Those two old 
men would be very hurt if you challenged their dreaming 
so roughly. All of us have an ideal. Perhaps Bill Hardie is 
nothing more harmful than a spoken expression of the 
quaint ambitions cherished by George and Solium in their 
young days. No, no; you must never let them see your 
unbelief. Bill Hardie has become an institution, Mr. Heri- 
tage.” 

“ I never will, Miss Adaire,” said the young man quietly. 


230 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Quite suddenly he felt a strange disinclination to talk. _ He 
wanted nothing more than just to sit watching the delicate 
profile of the girl’s face as she gazed dreamily out of the 
window into the gathering twilight. Since he had come to 
live with the Adaires, Heritage more and more blessed the 
impulse which had brought him to seek the companionship 
of these people. No longer now did he attempt to disguise 
from himself his love for Peggy. To win her for his wife 
seemed to him the most divinely desirable gift that life could 
bestow. 

Phil Adaire he acknowledged as being something of a 
puzzle. For the life of him Heritage could not penetrate 
the reserve with which the gentle old man wrapped himself. 
Adaire conversed with him but seldom, yet always kindly 
and courteously. On rare occasions the old man unbent 
amazingly. At such times Heritage would be treated to 
something in the nature of a musical feast. Adaire was a 
fine pianist. He touched his instrument reverently, as one 
might touch a loved and valued friend ; drawing from it such 
exquisite interpretation of his varying mood that Heritage 
never failed to thrill responsively. Often Peggy would 
sing. Though he revelled in the beauty of her voice, Heri- 
tage was somehow always conscious of an undercurrent of 
depression running through the soft tones. He wondered 
unhappily what shadow of the past, or menace of the fu- 
ture, could so cloud the joyousness of her sweet life. Some- 
thing warned him that not yet might he oflfer her the com- 
fort and protection of his love. Yet the future could surely 
hold nothing but promise for them both. Believing thus 
Heritage was content to wait the arbitrament of time. 


CHAPTER XIV 


C HARLEY SALTER, seated at the head of the pine 
table in Adaire’s sitting-room, had explained the 
situation as he saw it. The stout man’s summing up 
was not encouraging, in spite of an evident desire to make 
the best of things. He wound up a scathing indictment of 
Frame and Garraway by a direct appeal to Heritage. 

“ The law’s your game, Jack. Can anyone sell a lessee’s 
claim like Jerry Jones did, and get away with it?” 

“ Unless you had it in writing that such was not to be the 
case, I don’t see that we’ve a leg to stand on. Of course, 
you did not. That appears to be the one thing you over- 
looked.” 

“ I’ve known Jerry Jones most since he was a little brown 
kid running round with torn pants,” mourned Salter. “ I 
never guessed he’d bite me like that. Gosh ! I wonder 
what Slum said to scare him over to the mainland? Me 
to get hit like that? If any one wants to kick me, all they 
got to do is to say so. I won’t lift a finger to stop ’em. 
I’m the original pudden-head.” 

“ Surely there must be something we can do ? ” suggested 
Jean Salter hopefully. 

Her father shook his head. 

“ I’m waiting to hear it. Ain’t none of you got a sug- 
gestion ? ” 

Apparently no one had. Indeed, they were so frankly 
at a deadlock that they could only sit and look at each other 
blankly. Finally Pete broke a silence which threatened to 
become oppressive. 

“ I’d say fight ’em. It ain’t a brilliant idea, but it’s the 
only one I’ve got.” 

Salter was about to reply when the door opened to admit 
George Judney and Solium. Judney stood a moment look- 
ing round at the gloomy faces of his friends before he sat 
down quietly by the fireplace. The stout man, after one 
impatient glance towards the new-comers, said querulously, 
“ I’d like to, but where ’d be the use? They could only be 

231 


232 


TIMBER WOLVES 


one ending to it. They’ve the law on their side it seems. 
Besides, they’d be three to one against us. They’d eat us 
alive. Ain’t no one got any brainier idea than that? Jean 
. . . they say a woman’s wit is quicker than a man’s. Ain’t 
you or Peggy got a word to say? I’m kind of uneasy in my 
mind.” 

The girl rose quietly and went to him. She stood by his 
chair, looking down into his face. She alone understood the 
complete dejection in her father’s voice, read aright the 
tragic fear behind his eyes, for all his effort at nonchalance. 
Her tawny head went back protectingly, defiantly. 

“ Daddy . . . daddy, you know how gladly we’d help 
if we only could. There must be some way. There shall 
be some way. You’re not to be despondent.” 

Her eyes suddenly encountered those of George Judney 
and she broke off. She stood with parted lips, staring at 
the old man in puzzled fashion. He returned the gaze 
steadily, the ghost of a smile about the corners of his bearded 
mouth. Slowly the girl raised her hand and pointed at him. 

“ George knows.” Her woman’s instinct rose triumphant. 
In her glad certainty she almost shouted the words. 
“ George knows. George can tell us.” 

Salter whirled in his chair. 

“ George ? ... By the Lord Harry, the girl’s right. 
George . . . you’ve got an idea? Out with it. Quick 
man ! ” 

He, too, pointed a fat shaking finger at the abashed hut- 
keeper. His eyes were shining queerly. On a sudden his 
voice broke. 

“George? ... if I’m wrong I think it will break my 
heart. You’ve found a way out? Tell us.” 

Judney ’s deep-set eyes met those of the stout man almost 
affectionately. 

“ You ain’t wrong, Charley. I b’lieve you’ll come out on 
top in spite of all that Frame can do.” 

He ceased abruptly, his gaze traveling from one to an- 
other of the expectant faces turned towards him. Into his 
voice crept a note of wistfulness. 

“ Folks, I’m getting on to be an old man. Man and boy 
I’ve tramped this old island for nigh on fifty years. Me and 
Joe have prospected up and down the coast here for almost 
more years than I care to remember. They ain’t a sand-hill 


TIMBER WOLVES 


233 


we haven't climbed ; not a creek we ain’t camped by ; not 
a nook or hollow of the plains that we ain’t got to know as 
well almost as the creeping things that has their home there. 
They ain’t a thing happened about the old plains that me 
and Solium took notice of ; not a man nor woman come into 
the place that we ain’t met and took stock of in our own way. 
Some of them people came to carve out a home for them- 
selves amongst the big timber. Most of ’em stayed right on, 
in spite of the plague, and pest, and bitter hard times they 
had to face. They stayed because they loved the place. The 
out-back always gets you the one way or the other. They 
ain’t no jess tolerating country like this. Either you loves 
it or you hates it. They’s no betwixt or between. Me and 
Joe here loves it. I reckon all of us here loves it. We’ve 
become part and parcel of the plains. We’ve grown into 
its ways. We know the coastlands for the great, wide, open, 
beautiful country that it is. We thought to always have it 
so. But what has happened ? ” 

Judney gazed around questioningly but no one ventured 
to reply. The hut-keeper raised his hand and brought it 
down on his knee with a smack. His voice lost its melan- 
choly, drawling intonation. It became on a sudden sharp 
and penetrating, almost menacing. 

“ I’ll tell you. There came to this coast a mob of greedy, 
crawling, spying speculators; men that don’t know what it 
means to have to do an honest day’s toil ; men that know no 
single law of decency or restraint; men that live only for 
one thing — money, and God help those that stand in the way 
of their getting it. They come and saw this beautiful big 
timber and pounced on it like a pack of wolves, tearing at 
each other with the dirty teeth of business trickery till the 
woods rang with their snarling and quarreling. 

He paused a second time. His cavernous eyes were 
smoldering strangely. 

“ God never made the forest for any little circle of red- 
faced crooks to play grab with. I know as well as you that 
the big trees wasn’t only given us to look at. They was 
given us to be made use of, the same as every other help 
to man’s existence that nature planted on this earth. But 
the using should be done for needs’ sake, not money’s sake. 
And me and you and the next man was meant to have an 
equal share so long as we had strength and courage enough 


234 


TIMBER WOLVES 


to want it. But these men . . . they look to take it all. 
So far they’ve got it all.” 

Judney turned to the open-mouthed Salter. 

“ Charley, you’ll be wondering why I’m saying all this. 
It’s because me and Joe want you all to know jess where we 
stand, to know that him and me aim to help all we can. 
We’re going to help fight Frame. Not because we want a 
share in what you take. We don’t. But because they’s 
not one of you here , that ain’t been good to us, that ain’t 
done your best to let two poor old fossickers see that you 
ain’t ashamed to call them your friends. Now show me that 
timber map Frame give to Mr. Heritage. Spread it on the 
table.” 

The stout man complied wonderingly. Judney placed a 
long, sinewy finger on the map and looked across at Pete. 

“ You remember that night Garraway tried to beat Joe 
up? They was mighty near a bad brawl that night. I 
smelt it coming, in spite of all you was trying to do to smooth 
things over. And so I took a chance shot at Slum and got 
him rattled. He was telling you to get off his land. Re- 
member what I said to him then?” 

The cattleman wrinkled his brows. 

“ You says, ‘ we’ll get off your land jess as soon as ever you 
shows us where it is.’ Of course, we all knew you was 
bluffing. Seems like Slum fell for it, all the same.” 

“ Was it bluff? ” said Judney. “ I’m not so sure of that. 
If you ask me, I hit the mark pretty well for a pot shot — 
and Slum knew I hit it. What he didn’t know though was 
whether I spoke plain knowledge or was only guessing. 
Until he found that out he had to go slow. So he pulled out, 
and called his dorgs off. I’ll bet he’s come to think by this 
time that I was jess plain fool after all. Which is what I 
wanted him to think.” 

From the pocket of his coat he produced a folded paper 
which he spread out by the side of Heritage’s map. 

“ This here is the Guv’ment map of the timber holdings 
round The Bend. I wrote down to Hobart for it. Look at 
Frame’s map (the map you’ve been working from) and then 
look at this other. Are they alike or ain’t they? And if 
they’re not, which of the two is most likely to be right? 
They ain’t any argument. The Guv’ment map is the map. 
In a couple of words I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Frame and 


TIMBER WOLVES 


235 


Garraway have been, and still are, milking Crown Lands. 
And what’s more, you got a right-of-way down Frame’s 
own tramline any time you like. That land ain’t Frame’s 
any more than it’s yours. It’s the property of the Crown. 
If you slap in an application right away, you’ve got Garra- 
way by his two ears. He can’t do a single thing. He’s 
beat” 

For a second or so following the hut-keeper’s triumphant 
declaration there was an incredulous silence, broken only by 
the heavy breathing of Charley Salter. The stout man’s 
little eyes were almost falling out of his head, his mouth was 
opening and shutting ridiculously. He appeared to Heritage 
like some corpulent fish drawn suddenly from its element to 
lie gasping upon the sands. 

Jean Salter and Pete had their heads bent together over 
the maps. The cattleman straightened himself presently 
with grunt of suppressed excitement. 

“ George, I believe you’ve hit it. Where they’s Frame’s 
name filled in on the map he gave Jack, they’s nothing but 
blanks on the Guv’ment tracing. In the name of Mike, how 
did you drop to what was going on ? ” 

Having sprung his surprise Judney was again the un- 
emotional, slow-speaking old man they knew so well. His 
voice issued from his interior in a drawling, melancholy 
rumble. 

“ Jess plain luck. Me and Joe heard Garraway and Login 
talking one time when they thought there was no one nigh. 
That set us to thinking. And when I fired that chance shot 
at Slum that night and seen how he kind of wriggled, I 
reckoned it ’ud maybe be a good thing to chase that idea of 
mine right into its burrow. So I got a real map. And now 
you know as much about it as I do.” 

All this time Salter had been sitting like a man in a trance. 
Now he came to life suddenly. In a single movement he was 
out of his seat and grabbing Judney’s lean hand between 
his own two fat ones. 

“ George, we’ll never forget this. I’m open to own up 
that jess a few minutes ago I thought we was down and out. 
Only for you we would have been. We’ll none of us forget 
this.” 

In the stout man’s voice was a genuine feeling ; his eyes 
were suspiciously bright. 


236 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ George, d’you know what we’re going to do now ? 
We’re going to apply for that bit of ground jess as soon as 
we can find a pen and bit of paper to do it with. This lets 
us out.” 

The display of gratitude seemed to embarrass Judney. 
He returned Salter’s grip awkwardly. 

“ It ain’t anything. Forget it,” he rumbled. A slow grin 
came on his face. “ What’s the matter, Charley ? ” 

“ It’s that ding-busted sore pad of mine,” said the stout 
man, grimacing. “ I’d clean forgot about it till I jess hap- 
pened to remember.” He reached for his hat. “ I’m going 
along home to dream I see Frame getting over the ground 
in our direction on his hands and knees. Well, solong! ” 

He departed chuckling between Jean and Pete. A moment 
later George Judney rose to his feet and made unobtrusively 
for the door. 

“ George, don’t you dare go before I make you and Joe 
some supper,” called Peggy. “ Now, don’t be obstinate. 
It won’t take me a minute.” 

She ran out into the kitchen without waiting a reply. 
Judney resumed his seat beside the grinning Solium, who 
took the opportunity to poke sly fun at his gaunt friend. 

“Tea, George, eh? Yes, says you, I could sure do with 
some tea. I sort of remember you like tea ! ” 

“ Quite right,” said Judney placidly. Pie turned to Heri- 
tage. “ Jack, they’s two men on Garraway’s side that you 
want to watch. They’ve both got it in for you. I reckon 
I don’t need to name either of ’em, eh? ” 

“ Rebner and Login ? ” asked the young man. 

“ You say it,” said Judney. “ Of the two Rebner’ll take 
the most looking after. Login’s bad from his hair down, 
but he don’t care who knows it. When Login’s coming he 
roars so’s you can hear him. But Gus is sly. He takes 
cover like a snake. And he don’t like you.” 

“ I’m not alarmed,” smiled Heritage. “ If Rebner plays 
tricks I shall do my best to scotch him. As for his not 
liking me — well, I don’t like him. I disliked him from the 
first. Did you ever notice that he can’t or won’t look you 
straight in the face? His eyes drop away. That’s a bad 
sign.” 

“ Gus is a foreigner,” said the hut-keeper bluntly ; as if 
the fact explained the peculiarity. “ Leastwise, his name 


TIMBER WOLVES 


237 

sounds that way. Gustavus Rebner ? T’ain’t English, any- 
how.” 

“ German,” volunteered Phil Adaire. “ His mother was 
an Irish emigrant, but his father landed here from the Rhine 
direct. Rebner told me so himself years ago, when we 
were on better terms than we are now or ever shall be 
again.” 

“ I kind of hate all foreigners,” said Solium. The little 
man’s wizened face twisted humorously. “ I’m sort of re- 
minded about the yarn Bill Hardie told me and George once 
about the dutchies. Rum names some of ’em have. They 
ain’t hardly Christian by the sound of them.” 

“ The dutchies ? ” queried Heritage. 

“ Come from Holland,” explained Solium. “ You see they 
was once a whole colony of them come to live around Mount 
Monkey in the old days. The boss one was a feller calling 
himself Somebody or Other Van Nation. He was married 
and had eight or nine children. Well one day the new 
Methodist Parson comes riding along on his first visit to 
the place. As he’s going by old Van’s place he sees one of 
the little girls sitting watching him from the top rail of the 
fence. Being kind of fond of all kiddies the parson pulls 
his off rein and jig- jogs across the road to have a little 
pitch. 

“ ‘ What’s your name, my pretty one ? ’ says he, kind of 
soothing. ‘ Helen Van Nation, Sir,’ says the kid. His 
Reverence looks at her like he don’t quite understand. 
‘WHAT?’ says he. ‘Please, Sir, it’s Helen Van Nation,’ 
says the kid again. His Nibs wrinkles up his face till he 
looks like a sun-struck squid. He wears a kind of horrified 
look. If it weren’t for his Sunday clothes he’d fall off his 
horse and have a fit. ‘ My child,’ he says, ‘ this is terrible. 
Where . . . where did you learn to swear in such a dread- 
ful manner ? ’ ‘ Please, Sir, t’ain’t swearing,’ says the kid, 

sort of frightened and snuffly at the nose. His Reverence 
is horrified some more. He puts his hand in the air and 
makes a noise in his throat like a broody hen. ‘ My heavens,’ 
he says, ‘ would you add a falsehood to the load of sin already 
reposing on your immature soul ? ’ he says. ‘ I ask you 
your name and you reply “ Hell and Damnation.” The Evil 
One is indeed busy in these parts. Where’s your father?’ 
he says. It took old Van half an hour explaining things 


238 


TIMBER WOLVES 


in his broken English before his Reverence gets the hang 
of it.’’ 

“Joe! . . . Joe!” said Adaire reproachfully. 

“ True as death,” defended the unabashed Solium. “ Bill 
Hardie was there and heard the whole thing.” 

Any further discussion was put an end to by the entry of 
Peggy. The two old men swallowed their supper hastily 
and departed. A little later Peggy pleaded tiredness and 
went to her room. Phil Adaire and Heritage were left alone. 

Heritage eyed the frail figure of the old man with a feeling 
akin to pity. 

“ Mr. Adaire, Fm afraid you’re overdoing it. You look 
quite done up. That isn’t right, you know. We can’t 
afford to have you ill.” 

Adaire smiled faintly. 

“ I’m stronger than you think. I am a little tired, cer- 
tainly; but that is as it should be. We old folk knock up 
easily. What a glorious thing youth is. I envy all you 
young people; especially Pete Diamond. What tremendous 
vitality that man has; what perfect health and strength. 
I might also add what a good fellow he is, in spite of — well, 
in spite of certain rough elements in his make-up.” 

“ I like Pete,” said Heritage with conviction. He con- 
sidered a moment. “ And yet I don’t quite understand him. 
Some of them here seem almost to fear him. Why is that? ” 

" The Pete you know is not the Pete of twelve months 
back,” said the old man. “ When I first met Pete he had 
the worst reputation of any man on the coast. That’s saying 
a good deal. He was never free from trouble. Not that he 
was ever inclined to be vicious. But he was headstrong, 
intolerant of control, often violent. A typical example of 
a hard riding, hard swearing stockman; and reckless be- 
yond belief. Pete always appealed to me as a man whose 
soul was too big for his body; one capable of big things, 
wonderful things, if he had been given a chance. His his- 
tory accounts in part for the manner of man he was — and 
is. He practically reared himself. Such knowledge as he 
has is self-taught; learned in that hardest of all schools — 
experience. Yet after all there must always have been 
something noble in Pete’s composition. See him now ; how 
changed, how wonderfully changed. Strong and passionate 
as ever, yet chastened beyond understanding. You see, Mr. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


239 


Heritage, he found what he needed ; that is to say, a definite 
reason for existence. There came into his life an influence 
for good which must remain for all time.” 

“ Jean Salter?” asked Heritage, marveling. 

Adaire made a motion of assent. 

“ Jean Salter, of course. So much may be wrought by a 
good woman. Some would tell you that Jean seeks degra- 
dation by mating with a man like Pete. I deny that abso- 
lutely. No man should be held responsible for the sins of 
his forebears. He may suffer — suffer intolerably ; but his 
life will carry no stain but of his own making. With Pete 
the end is not yet. I often wonder what would happen were 
he to be thrust back on himself as in the days we first knew 
him. God grant that will not happen.” 

“ How did you come to meet him?” asked Heritage. 
“Was he bred on the coast here?” 

For a second or two the old man gave no reply. He sat 
hunched in his chair, his eyes fixed broodingly on the dying 
embers of the fire. When he did speak his voice was 
strangely gentle. 

“ I was just thinking how little we know of the motives 
which actuate those around us. How easy it is to condemn 
where we do not understand. How harsh our judgments 
often are. Well — well . . . you were asking about Pete. 
The first time I saw him he was camped quite close to Ber- 
rigan’s Gum. You don’t know the big tree yet. At least, 
I have not heard you mention it. It is on the way to the 
cemetery at Gray Lagoon. It is an immense eucalypt, 
(swamp gum, I think) gray with age, and hollowed by 
countless fires. How it continues to maintain its equili- 
brium I do not know. Judging by appearance the least puff 
of wind would send it to earth, yet it continues to weather 
storm after storm. One day, I suppose, it will topple over. 
Then the district will have lost a curious relic of the old 
days.”. 

Heritage was interested. 

“ Why was it named Berrigan’s Gum ? ” 

“ Because an old trapper of that name once made his 
home in the burnt-out hollow of the tree’s butt. Don’t 
look so astonished. I assure you there are trees here and on 
the mainland where I am sure whole families might live at a 
pinch. However . . . Pete made his camp close to the 


240 


TIMBER WOLVES 


old gum. That was five years ago. For a time he worked 
about the bush, taking splitting contracts, and so on. Then 
he took charge of the cattle run over the river. You know 
what he is doing to-day.” 

“ I like Pete,” said Heritage once more. “ He seems a 
curious mixture. Why, do you know the first day I arrived 
at the Ferry house one of the men counseled me to speak 
Pete’s name gently, if at all. He seemed positively afraid 
lest Pete should hear me. Of course, I now know that I 
was taken for a policeman. Even so, I fail to see why Pete 
should need to bother about it.” 

Adaire appeared to hesitate. 

“ Mr. Heritage, I should surely take you into our confi- 
dence. The fact is, Pete has not yet quite managed to 
disassociate himself from his old connections. For some 
time he and others (to be frank, Login and Rebner) have 
been shooting and buying black possum skins for the main- 
land markets. The thing is quite illegal. If caught they 
will be called on to pay a heavy fine. In Pete’s own case, I 
am afraid the penalty would be imprisonment. He was a 
good deal of a nuisance to the police at one time, and they 
have never quite forgiven him. However, this is his last 
season at skin running, as he calls it. I fancy he will be glad 
to shake himself free of Login and Rebner. I don’t trust 
those two men. I think Pete is foolish to give himself so 
completely into their hands. He does not think so. While 
he dislikes them intensely and thinks them capable of almost 
any bad action, he refuses to believe that they would betray 
him in a matter of that kind. There you have a clue to 
Pete’s character. Absolute loyalty in matters of friendship. 
To betray an associate is the unpardonable sin. He deems 
others of a like mind.” 

“ I should be sorry to trust my character in the hands of 
Login or Rebner,” said Heritage promptly. 

“ So should I. Well, in a little time Pete will break with 
them for good. I know he has promised that to Jean. And 
he will keep his word. Jean and Peggy between them will 
make something yet of Master Pete.” 

“ I’m sure of that ! ” said Heritage heartily. “ Well, I’m 
off to bed. Anything I can do for you before I go? ” 

“ Nothing, thank you,” said the old man. 

For a long time he sat motionless before the burnt-out fire. 


CHAPTER XV 


HARLEY SALTER attended to the details of his 



business with such caution that it was not until his 


surveyors were actually commencing work on Frame’s 
ground that Garraway understood what was happening. 
Recovering from his first shock of angry surprise the man- 
ager lost no time in idle speculation. He came one morning 
to Salter’s camp and demanded to see the stout man. 

Solium, who happened to be setting a saw in the shade of 
a bag shelter by the hut, jerked a grimy finger in the direction 
of their improvised office. 

“ Charley’s inside. You looking for a new job?” 

The sarcasm was not lost on Garraway. He shot Solium 
such a vicious glance that the little man’s grin wilted as 
suddenly as it had begun. 

Salter met Garraway at the door. He led the way inside 
with no more than a perfunctory remark. 

“ Well, Mr. Garraway, what can I do for you?” 

The manager exploded instantly. 

“ What’s this about your grabbing the land at the head 
of my mill? You can’t do that kind of thing here. I’ll 
give you an hour to order those men away. If they stick 
I’ll send some of my men over and clean the place up.” 

The stout man smiled. 

“No good, Slum. Bluff’s only food for kids. There we 
are and there we mean to stay. I always told you we 
reckoned to find a decent outlet.” 

“ You can’t have that one, anyhow,” swore Garraway 
positively. “ Why, do you know I could have those men 
arrested for trespass. And I will, too ! What’s the matter 
with you, anyway ? ” 

“ They’s nothing the matter with me. You don’t want to 
try and interfere with my surveyors, Mr. Garraway. Don’t 
forget they’re Guv’ment men. Now the best thing you can 
do is to go over the rest of your holdings and see how much 
of it you hold title to.” 

To Garraway’s storming he continued to turn a deaf ear. 
To each threat he had but a single answer. 


242 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Turn about’s fair play, Slum. ,, 

In the end the manager came to recognize the futility of 
prolonging the discussion. 

“ I’ll break you for this though,” he threw back over his 
shoulder as he made for the door. 

“You’ve said that before — lots of times,” retorted the 
stout man enjoyably. “ Now don’t go too far and spoil it 
all. We’ve only to drop a line to the Lands Office, and 
where are you? Not even Frame could pull you out of the 
soup.” 

Garraway faced about. His bulging eyes were snapping 
viciously. “ You can’t prove a thing on us,” he boomed. 

“ They’s a quarter mile of your wood rails laying on that 
bit of ground this minute,” Salter reminded. “ How you 
going to explain that away ? ” 

“ 1 can tear that line up in a night. Well, have it your 
own way. For the time being you certainly win. At least, 
that’s how it seems to you. In a way I’m not sorry this has 
happened. Frame was getting careless. I’ve always told 
him there’s a limit to meanness. But if you think this is 
going to make any real difference in the end, you’ve got 
another guess coming. I’m sorry for you, Salter.” 

“ Thanks,” said the stout man drily. 

Garraway hesitated. 

“ Look here. I’d give a tidy bit to know who put you on 
to this game,” he said finally. 

Salter laughed outright. 

“ A little dicky-bird. And I’ll bet it tells us lots more 
before we’re through.” 

“ You’ll need all of it,” snapped Garraway. He strode 
away fuming, his mind already grasping the sentences of the 
letter he must send to Frame. 

Salter watched him go, a look of vast content on his fat 
face. At last things seemed to be shaping the way he wanted 
them. This revelation of George Judney’s had miraculously 
altered the whole complexion of affairs. To grab a right-of- 
way under the very nose of the enemy was a piece of almost 
unbelievable good luck. 

> The succeeding fortnight brought no reversal of the situa- 
tion. Work went steadily forward. Salter set his men to 
track-cutting on Frame’s old block. In a week they had 
penetrated to the very heart of splitting operations. There- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


243 


after began to pass a steady procession of staves. Though 
the weather was dry, even now the ground was unfit for 
heavy cartage. Salter ran narrow haulage tracks here and 
there into the bush and brought out the staves on sledges 
drawn by two yoke teams. On the higher ground the timber 
was transshipped to horse drays and run quickly to a central 
space near the Government tramline and there stacked and 
weighted. 

As time passed and nothing was heard of Frame, Salter 
could not restrain his jubilation. 

“ The old man’s licked, and he knows it,” he confided one 
day to Judney. “ Next thing we know Frame himself will 
be along here looking round to see how he can come back at 
us. He can save himself that much trouble. He can’t hurt 
us worth tuppence. I tell you we’ve got him by the short 
hair.” 

The hut-keeper assented, but hesitatingly. 

“ I b’lieve you’re right. All the same, take my advice and 
watch out. They’s more mischief brewing, for all Garra- 
way’s keeping so quiet. I doubt you’ll get a sight of Frame 
jess yet. Men like him don’t show up till they got to. When 
you sight Frame in the open you can bet he reckons things 
are mighty bad. We may sight him on this job yet, but not 
for awhile.” 

“ I don’t want to interfere with him so long as he don’t 
interfere with me,” said the stout man more soberly. 
“ Gosh ! ain’t they got enough work of his own without pok- 
ing into other folk’s business? This don’t make a bit of 
difference to Frame’s mill. Their output will go on jess the 
same as ever. They’re as busy as we are.” 

Salter spoke no more than the truth. Frame’s mill was 
indeed unusually busy. The big timber man had secured 
additional contracts which made it imperative to use up 
every ounce of working pressure. For a time Garraway 
himself went back into the bush, speeding his men to the 
limit of endurance. The manager was everywhere at once ; 
arguing, explaining, exhorting ; using to the full his dominat- 
ing personality. Only when it became certain that the work 
was well in hand did he return to the mill camp, there to 
throw himself into the task of reducing the cori espondence 
accumulated during his aosence. 

Three days after his return he sent one afternoon tor Login 


244 


TIMBER WOLVES 


and Rebner. When the men arrived he called them into 
his office and shut the door. His next step was to unlock a 
drawer of his desk and take out a letter. This he handed to 
Login. 

The eyes of the squat section boss widened angrily as he 
read. In turn he tossed the missive across to Rebner. 

“ The old man’s mad, talking like that,” he muttered. 
“ It ain’t your fault, nor yet mine. The whole thing come 
about through his own damned meanness. If he’d applied 
for that ground like he should have, fat Salter and his crowd 
would have been beat to a frazzle by now. What are you 
going to do ? ” 

Garraway grunted. 

“ What d’you think I’ll do? It’s no use talking back at a 
man like Frame. After all, if a man pays your salary he’s 
got the right to tie his mistakes round your neck if he wants 
to. Let him roar. He’ll be pleased enough by the time 
we’ve finished.” 

“ You got something up your sleeve?” asked Rebner 
curiously. 

Garraway affected indifference. 

“ Me? I haven’t thought about it yet. It just struck me 
though that Salter would find it one thing to get his staves 
out to the line and quite another to arrange for transporta- 
tion. Let him stack all he wants. I had a word with the 
new freight clerk the other day. Funny thing but he knows 
Frame well. Now Samuels — that’s his name — ain’t cer- 
tain, but he thinks there may be a shortage of trucks this 
season. He advised me to look ahead. Of course a man 
can’t neglect a hint of that kind. I reckon if we fill all the 
trucks I’ve ordered there’ll be a glut of timber in the market.” 

The three men exchanged glances. Into the eyes of each 
came a little understanding twinkle. Rebner broke into a 
laugh. 

“ Good enough. I reckon I’ll look that Samuels up on my 
own account.” 

“ You let him alone,” said Garraway quickly. The amuse- 
ment left his face and was replaced by a heavy frown. 

“ That’s the first thing I wanted to tell you. Keep it to 
yourselves. Here’s something else. In spite of what I’ve 
repeatedly said some one continues to juggle whisky and such 
like into the camps along the line. You men know that is 


TIMBER WOLVES 


245 


so as well as I do. Well, IVe about reached the limit on 
this thing. Booze all you want to, but cut the sly grog. 
Go to the hotel at Green Valley, or where else you like, but 
don’t bring the stuff along here. Now I don’t know a single 
thing. I’m just telling you, that’s all.” 

Rebner’s pale eyes flickered spitefully. 

“ Neither do we.” 

“ I never said you did,” retorted the manager. He banged 
his fist down on the bench beside him in a sudden spurt of 
anger. “ I can tell you this though. If I catch the man 
that’s doing it I’ll shoot him clean off the coast. Now mind 
me. This mill is insured, but the logs in stack ain’t. We 
can’t afford to run risks. And you can bet that if this sort 
of thing keeps on sooner or later some boozy slob ’ll drop a 
lighted match, and up she’ll go. Now it’s up to you two to 
help me run down this grog merchant. And for your own 
sakes I hope you’ve got no finger in the business yourselves.” 

“ Why not ? ” drawled Login. 

Garraway looked at him pettishly. 

“ Because I’ve passed a hint along to the police. I don’t 
want them poking about here any more than you do, but this 
business has got to stop. They know that skin running and 
grog selling has been going on up here for long enough, and 
I daresay they wouldn’t mind a haul. Anyway, I’ve got 
plain orders from Frame, and I’m going to see myself clear. 
That’s all I’ve got to say.” 

“All right,” said Login, with a shrug of his shoulders. 
He rose clumsily to his feet and made for the door. “ You 
don’t want me any more to-day, eh ? I got one or two things 
I want to see to.” 

Without waiting a reply he swung off across the yards. 
Crossing the line he climbed the rise to the sapling patch 
where his tent was pitched. As he pulled the tent flap aside 
something sprang past him into the open. He let out a 
furious oath. 

“ There’s that thieving brute of Pete Diamond’s again. I 
reckon it’s time I showed him a point or two.” 

From the ridge-pole of the tent he reached down an old 
sporting Martini rifle, thrust in a cartridge and ran outside 
again. Pup had come to a standstill about three hundred 
yards away, his head turned towards the tent. On Login’s 
appearance he began to bark, but did not offer to move. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


246 

The man dropped to one knee and lifted the rifle to his 
shoulder. With savage cunning his finger curled around the 
trigger. He took deliberate aim. 

At the instant of firing came an unlooked-for interruption. 
Login’s name was called suddenly from behind. Startled, 
the section boss half lowered his weapon; and as quickly 
lifted it again. But his chance had gone. As if providen- 
tially warned the kangaroo dog had bounded onwards to the 
cover of the bushes ahead. 

Login turned round angrily. 

“ You, Sadie? Why couldn’t you have held your tongue 
a second longer. You see what you did? ” 

The girl met his gaze steadily. She was looking white and 
infinitely careworn, and the corners of her wide mouth 
drooped oddly. 

“ I’m sorry, Tom. But you was making a mistake, wasn’t 
you, dear? Why, that was Pete’s kangaroo, Pup, you was 
aiming at. You didn’t know that, of course. That was 
Pete’s dog.” 

Login shifted uneasily. 

“Was it now? Pete’s dog, eh? I believe you’re right. 
I reckon I mistook him for some other animal. Maybe it 
was as well you spoke up when you did.” 

He reached a none too gentle hand to the girl’s wrist. 

“ What’s fetched you along, old girl? ” 

“ I brought you a message from father,” said Sadie. 
“ He said to tell you that Hennessy won’t be along this week- 
end.” She stood hesitating a moment. The blood flushed 
her white face. “ Ain’t you glad to see me, Tom? ” 

“ Why, of course I am,” muttered Login. He let go her 
wrist and stepped back. “ You sort of scared me creeping 
on me like you done. So Hennessy’s not coming, eh ? Why 
not?” 

The ungraciousness of the reply had its effect on the girl. 
The color slowly receded from her cheeks. Her mouth 
trembled. 

“ I don’t know. Father didn’t say.” 

“ All right, all right. It don’t matter,” said Login. He 
spoke less harshly, but his manner was frankly impatient. 
“ How’s the old man, anyhow ? ” 

“ Dad’s well enough,” said Sadie quietly. 

Login grinned. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


247 


“ And so he'd ought to be. Don’t do a kick from morning 
to night. A gentleman’s life. What’s been doing along at 
the Ferry? You been busy? ” 

At his change of manner the girl’s face brightened patheti- 
cally. Her voice lost its note of depression. 

“ Dreadfully. Samphrey’s have just crossed. Over a 
thousand head. The runs must be nearly empty now.” 

Her eyes sought Login’s. 

“ Tom there’s a party coming through next week bound 
for the West Coast. They ain’t cattlemen though.” 

“ That so ? Prospecting, likely.” 

Sadie shook her head. 

“ I don’t think so. Dad says they’re townies. Tom . . . 
one of them is a parson. Tom . . . dear ... ?” 

“ Now see here, Sadie,” said Login deliberately, “ I ain’t 
going to be rushed like that.” 

She half extended one hand towards him, then let it fall 
again listlessly. Into her eyes came a hunted look. 

“ But you promised me.” 

Login shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I said when I was ready. You women ain’t ever satis- 
fied. You keep on pesting a man . . . pesting a man. . . .” 

Sadie’s face crimsoned in anger. She came closer to him, 
peering into his eyes. 

“You . . . brute,” she said, in a low tone. Her voice 
choked. “ Sometimes, do you know, I almost think I hate 
you. I believe you would break with me even now, if you 
could. But you dare not. Do you hear? You dare not! 
I know things . . . Oh, do you think you can frighten me 
with a look. Not now . . . not now. That time is past. 
What worse can happen? I wish to God I’d never seen your 
face.” 

She made as if to turn away, but Login caught her by the 
arm. “ Don’t be a little fool. Who said I wanted to break 
with you? You women are all alike. You ain’t happy 
unless you’re rushing things. Can’t you trust me ? ” 

“ Can’t I trust you ? I dunno. God knows I’m trying to ; 
but you don’t make it easy. If I am, it’s because I’ve got to. 
What a thing for a woman to say . . . I’ve got to. There 
ain’t anything else for me to do.” She threw up her arms 
in a swift, passionate gesture. “What’s the good of it all? 
Mine ain’t been an easy life. I’ve seen little enough of 


248 


TIMBER WOLVES 


anything since I was so high ... a little kid at school. 
The pretty things that girls like, the innocent pleasures, the 
kind words . . . I’ve had none of them. I’ve never been 
able to remember my mother. And my father . . . you 
know what he is. And yet I was happy enough in my own 
way. In spite of it all I was happy once. When things 
went wrong there was always the great wide plains to kind 
of comfort me . . . the singing of the birds, and the smell 
of the wind coming across the heather. And at night the 
moonlight making dream castles of the clouds that crept 
inland from the sea. Life wasn’t so hard with them things 
to soothe away the tiredness at my heart. There was always 
the future to think of . . . and that’s kinder than the past, 
God knows ! I’d always that to look to . . . with the kind 
of wonderful feel about God sitting up there among the stars 
jess waiting a chance to give me a fair deal. I could pray 
them days. I could love the flowers and the birds, and the 
talk of the waves coming up into the gutters along the coast. 
I could talk to them. And now ... I can’t feel like that 
any more. There’s a change somehow. Them things are 
almost hateful to me now. I can’t think of them. I daresn’t 
pray any more. I’m alone. I’m . . . afraid ” 

Login was staring at her open-mouthed. His brute per- 
ception failed utterly to sense the tragedy in the monotonous 
voice. Sadie caught his look of amazement and laughed 
bitterly. 

“ You think I’m mad. Maybe I am. Mad as thousands 
before me, and for the same reason. What does it matter? 
Just a mad girl’s dreams. You’d never understand. Maybe 
if I could die . . . Aye, why don’t you kill me, and be 
done with it? It would be so easy. I should not try to 
stop you.” 

“ Stop that talk,” broke in Login roughly. For just a 
second there leapt into his eyes an indefinable something 
that checked the girl’s wild utterance more surely than a 
blow. In spite of herself she could not repress a shiver. 
Login saw the movement and his features relaxed instantly. 

“ You ain’t well, Sadie . . . talking like that. Why, if 
any one was to hear you they’d think we wasn’t friends. 
They’d be wrong, eh ? You and me are going to get married 
pretty soon, ain’t we? You bet we are. Only jess now it 
ain’t possible. We’re going to wait awhile till things settle 


TIMBER WOLVES 


249 


down? Plenty of time, eh? You didn’t think I was going 
to turn you down, old girl? That would be a joke of a 
think, wouldn’t it? Now you jess give me a kiss and get 
back to your Dad. I’ll come along on Saturday and maybe 
we’ll fix something up.” 

He put an arm about the girl and tried to draw her to him, 
but she freed herself with a quick motion. Her bosom 
heaved but her face remained pitifully impassive. 

“ No. That ain’t any good, Tom. It’s more than a kiss 
that’s needed when they’s a hope to mend. If you really 
love me they’s a way to prove it.” 

Login stepped back sulkily. 

“You’re kind of unreasonable, ain’t you? Well, you’ll 
get over it. I’ll fix things when I’m ready; not before. 
If it don’t suit ... ? ” 

Sadie made no answer. Without a glance at him she 
walked slowly away. Login stood looking after her with a 
curious intentness until she passed out of sight. Then, with 
a muttered exclamation, he re-entered the tent. 

When he again emerged, some twenty minutes later, his 
appearance had undergone something of a transformation. 
His working clothes had been discarded for a suit of clean, if 
ill-fitting blue serge. About his neck was knotted a black 
silk handkerchief. A new felt hat sat awkwardly atop of 
his over-large head. He exuded a faint odor of yellow soap. 
Altogether he presented a rather absurd picture of com- 
placent ugliness. 

For a moment he stood looking about him, then strode 
away at a brisk pace in the direction of the plain. For 
half-an-hour he wound his way in and out along the narrow 
foot track until presently he debouched on open ground. A 
short distance ahead he could see Adaire’s house nestling in 
its tiny half circle of tea-tree and honeysuckle bush. At 
sight of it Login’s face lit expectantly. He increased his 
pace, striding over the button-grass until he reached the 
garden gate where he halted a moment and looked carefully 
about him before entering. 

No one was in sight. A knock on the closed door of the 
house brought no response. Frowning Login pounded the 
wooden floor of the veranda with his heavy heel. His 
hand was outstretched to try the handle of the door when 
Phil Adaire came slowly round the end of the veranda. 


250 


TIMBER WOLVES 


At sight of the old man Login ceased his tattoo. He held 
out his hand with an assumption of heartiness. 

“ Evening, Mr. Adaire. I jess took it into my head to 
drop in and see how you were getting on. I know business 
is business, and you and me is on opposite sides of the fence, 
but we might as well see something of one another between 
whiles, eh ? ” 

It appeared that Adaire’s bootlace had come undone. 
Apparently the re-tying of it gave him some trouble. When 
finally he straightened himself Login’s hand had dropped to 
his side. 

“ Good evening, Tom. I’m very well, thank you. And 
you ? ” 

“ Pretty fair,” said the section boss. “ You ain’t been too 
well, they tell me. And so you’re right again now, eh ? ” 

“ Quite, thank you,” said Adaire politely. 

He stood patiently as if waiting to hear his visitor’s real 
reason for calling. The faint flicker of a smile appeared at 
the corners of his mouth. 

Login pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit up. His 
impatience suddenly found crude expression. 

“ You’re all on your own seemingly. I don’t see Miss 
Peggy around. Ain’t ill. is she?” 

Adaire’s amusement deepened; although he frowned a 
little at mention of his daughter’s name. 

“ She’s gone over to visit the Salters. As you say, I’m 
all alone at present.” 

“ When’s she coming back?” asked Login bluntly. His 
disappointment apparently made him careless of further 
restraint for he looked at the old man with a sudden sneer. 

^ “ I thought you was all that busy you couldn’t hardly find 
time to eat your food ? And here you are picnicking at each 
other’s houses.” 

“ We are busy,” affirmed Adaire quietlv. “ At the same 
time, we must relax sometimes.” He added with a touch of 
malice, “ Things are going along so well that we can afford 
a dav off now and then.” 

“ The hell you can ! ” said Login, surprised into profanitv. 
“ Now ain’t that nice. Still, T had an idea that Slum had 
you bottled up in the way he wanted. That’s the way it 
looked to me. Maybe I was wrong.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


251 


“ Evidently so,” said Adaire, with a smile. 

“ Well, don’t be too sure of it,” said Login. 

His voice held so much assurance that Adaire looked at 
him in quick uneasiness. He began to wonder just how far 
in Garraway’s confidence this great hulking brute of a man 
might be. The thought came to the old man that Frame was 
contemplating further interference. 

“ I see that band-box Heritage is still on the coast,” re- 
sumed Login presently. “If he waits a little longer maybe 
I’ll find time to help boost him out. The sooner the better, 
eh? You won’t be sorry yourself to see the last of him?” 

Adaire looked at him composedly. 

“ That’s the second time you’ve suggested I had an in- 
terest in Mr. Heritage’s departure. I don’t know that I 
understand you, Tom. Jack Heritage is my friend.” 

“ Well, you ought to know,” said Login unpleasantly. 

“ You think not? ” asked Adaire. 

“ I know it. Heritage is no more your friend than he 
is mine. Not that I’m interested much either way. I can 
look after myself. Can you? ” Login eyed the old man with 
a kind of wolfish directness. “ You got friends here all 
right, but Heritage ain’t one of them. Nor he ain’t any 
friend of ... of Barkley’s.” 

“ Why bring that name into the conversation, Tom,” said 
Adaire, after a little silence. He sat down on the floor 
of the veranda, as if suddenly tired. 

“ Oh, I dunno. I had a kind of thought. You can bet 
it ain’t going to be easy for Barkley when young Heritage 
finds him. Men don’t come all the way from the mainland 
to find another man and jess shake him by the hand and ask 
how his liver is. They’s something at the back of things 
that you and me don’t know. But we can guess a whole lot. 
I can put two and two together, even though I ain’t any 
dressed-up town dolly. If I ain’t flash like some folk, I’m 
all there when it comes to the count.” 

He continued to smoke indifferently. 

“ And what is it you know — or think you know ? ” asked 
Adaire in a low voice. 

Login smiled cruelly. 

“ Me ? Why, I don’t know anything. I’m kind of sorry 
though for this man Barkley, whoever he is. I think I could 


252 


TIMBER WOLVES 


help that man. And I’d like to see him put one over on that 
slob from the city. But of course Barkley ain’t to know 
that, eh ? ” 

Adaire rose stiffly to his feet. He seemed to hesitate. 
Suddenly he raised his faded eyes directly to Login’s face. 
His voice issued shrilly. 

“ What are you hinting at ? Are you . . . suggesting 
that I know anything of this man? ” 

The unexpectedness of the question took Login aback. 
His jaw dropped ridiculously and he stared at the old man 
after the manner of one who sees his armory suddenly dis- 
mantled. Then he laughed harshly. 

“ You’re sort of guessing, ain’t you, Phil? Of course 
you don’t know Barkley. You don’t know what he done, 
nor anything about him. And a damn good job you don’t. 
I wouldn’t be in that man’s shoes for something.” 

“ Wouldn’t you ? ” said Adaire listlessly. His momentary 
spurt of courage had given place to a troubled silence. Or so 
it seemed to Login. 

“ It’s going to be hell for Barkley,” said the section boss 
once more. He waited a second. “ Unless of course he’s 
got sense enough to know who his real friends are, and 
listen to them when they talk. Now if I was Barkley, 
d’you know what I would do? I’d . . . but it don’t interest 
you.” 

Adaire was trembling. As if suddenly chilled by the 
evening wind, he put up one thin hand to gather the flaps 
of his coat more tightly about his breast. 

“ That is so. Still, I’d like to hear your view. You were 
saying ... ? ” 

Login grinned at the dusk. 

“ I was saying that if I was Barkley I’d get out from 
under, and leave things to my friends. I’d get along say to 
Hennessy’s over at Green Valley, and lie low a bit until this 
part is made too warm for the man that was chasing me. 
This Heritage ain’t lasting much longer. They’s things in 
the wind now that point to a clean-up for Frame. That’s 
a pity, seeing you’re interested; but it’s sure as death to 
happen. And when it does Heritage will float off the island 
clean scared to come back. He won’t dare to show himself 
within a hundred miles of The Bend. How do I know it? 
Well, never mind. I do know it. Heritage will go. But 


TIMBER WOLVES 


253 


until he does he’s always open to wake up and find what he’s 
looking for.” 

Adaire said nothing. 

Login stirred impatiently. “ That’s what I’d do. I’d 
listen to my friends.” 

He knocked the ashes from his pipe and stretched himself. 

“ I reckon I’ll be going now. More’n likely I’ll look in 
again in a day or so. Well, solong! ” 

He moved away; but suddenly halted and looked back 
over his shoulder. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. 

“ Maybe when Barkley’s ready to go he’ll let me know ? ” 

He seemed to wait expectantly. But Adaire gave no sign 
that he understood. 

“ Perhaps he would.” He looked at Login abstractedly. 
“ Why, were you expecting to hear of him then ? ” 

With an oath Login turned away. In a few minutes the 
dusk had swallowed him up. 

The old man went slowly into the house. 


CHAPTER XVI 


G EORGE JUDNEY sat by the open window of the 
hut. With cunning fingers he rolled long strands of 
hemp twine into snares meant to replace the worn or 
broken ones set along the banks of the creek which marked 
the eastern boundary of Salter’s camp. 

The bush was alive with the rich coloring of light and 
shade that sprang to the quickening touch of the afternoon 
sun. From the recesses of the timber came the twittering 
of innumerable birds, together with that indescribable medley 
of sweet elusive sound inhabiting the byeways of the bush. 
The warm air carried a faint echo of the falls on the Bat 
River, some forty chains distant, where an armlet of swift 
running water emptied on the north shore of Gray Lagoon. 
But one thing marred the serenity of the afternoon. This 
was the oft repeated strident chorus of a number of black 
jays scavenging around the precincts of the camp. Their 
curiously distinctive crying rang harshly through the clear- 
ing . . . kallah-kollah, kallah-kollah, kallah-kollah. At each 
unmusical repetition Solium Joe, who was seated at the 
table mending a pair of dungaree trousers, scowled fero- 
ciously towards the offending birds. 

“ Drat them wretches,” said the little man, for the twen- 
tieth time. “ Alius yelling around the place worse’n a mob 
of crows.” He glanced at his silent friend. “ Speak up, 
George ; I can’t hear you ? ” 

“ I was thinking,” explained Judney. “ I’m jess telling 
myself I don’t quite understand why Garraway hasn’t tried 
any comeback at us. Here we are with nigh a hundred 
thousand staves ready for trucking. And they ain’t done a 
thing.” 

“ P’haps they can’t,” said Solium. 

“ I’d like to think so. I’m not easy in my mind. After 
to-day we’ll know a little more. Charley was going along 
to see the freight clerk and arrange for trucks.” 

Judney bent closer over his work, his hairy face puckered 
thoughtfully. Solium continued to stitch at his nether gar- 

254 


TIMBER WOLVES 


255 


ments. Presently he began to sing in a high, cracked fal- 
setto, remarkably imitative of the birds whose note he 
affected to despise. 

“ I like the cakes that mother makes, 

I love her home-made jam; 

But her plum duff it is enough 
To make a man say damn.” 

“ You sound like a packet of crackers,” grumbled Judney. 
“ Cut it out, will you ? I want to go on thinking.” 

“ You never did have any ear for music,” complained 
Solium. “ What’s the matter with this, anyhow ? ” 

Without regarding the black looks of his friend he filled 
his lungs and burst forth anew : 

“ I take some pride in my inside, 

And try to keep it well; 

I love the cakes that mother makes, 

But her plum duff is h — 11.” 

He subsided into grinning silence. 

“ That all of it? ” asked Judney sourly. 

“ All I can remember.” 

The lank hut-keeper snorted contemptuously. “ Maybe 
you think you can sing, Joe. When you was young and 
courting the gals, you didn’t used to try and tickle their ears 
roaring at them like that, did you ? ” 

“ That ain’t roaring,” defended Solium. “ I know my 
limits as well as the next man, but I been musical all of my 
life. When I was a kid I used to treat the gals now and 
then. They never said they didn’t like it.” 

“ Explains why you ain’t married,” said Judney, with 
melancholy emphasis. “ You make a noise like a wagon 
wheel shouting for grease. Any woman that ’ud take them 
sounds to her bosom is dippy.” 

“ They’s been strangers coming around The Bend this last 
day or so,” he resumed, after a little silence. “ More of 
Slum’s friends, I suppose. I met one of them this morning. 
He was nosing about by the yards. Kind of silly I 
thought.” 

“ I see him myself,” said Solium. “ Sort of long, spindley 
feller, with an eye like a wood bug in mating time. Always 
on the go. You could hear it click every time it settled in 
the socket.” 


256 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Say anything? ” 

“ No. Neither did I.” 

Judney smiled gloomily. “ Well, I did. He come right 
up to where I was standing and stood there looking at me. I 
says good-day, and he says the same. ‘ Looking for work ? ’ 

I says. ‘ No/ says he. 4 Well, then, you’ve got what you 
want, haven’t you?’ I says. ‘Yes,’ says he.” 

“ What did you say then? ” demanded his friend. 

The hut-keeper caressed his beard reminiscently. 

“ Joe, he was the most talkative feller I ever see, I believe. 

‘ Can’t you disburse yourself of any other noises than yes and 
no? ’ I asts him. ‘ No,’ says he.” 

“ Weren’t deaf, was he? ” asked Solium anxiously. “ Or 
dumb?” 

“If he was he didn’t say so. I tell you that man is the 
original word scatterer from the circus. After meeting up 
with him a dumb man could talk me to death, and any one 
with a sign langwidge would bust my ear drums.” 

“Jess a button-grass tramp, most likely,” said Solium. 
His eyes wandered to the open window and he gave an 
explanation : 

“ Here’s Steve Strangways.” 

Judney, after one swift glance at the approaching man, 
put his work carefully aside and rose to his feet. About him 
was a certain air of expectancy. He rumbled softly : 

“ Anything the matter, Steve ? ” 

Strangways nodded. He was a stout, muscular individual 
with sunburned cheeks and serious blue eyes. He puffed 
gently as he came in at the door. 

“There’s the devil to pay down at the mill head,” he 
announced soberly. 

Judney’s deep-set eyes were twinkling with suppressed ex- . 
citement. “ Meaning ? ” he asked abruptly. 

“ We can’t arrange for transport. It’s not that they refuse 
to take the stuff, but there are no trucks to be got. Garraway 
has the lot. The boss is raving like a hornet. He says the 
whole thing is a slug up. When I came away he was trying 
to persuade Pete to get some of the boys together and 
collar what we want. Garraway’s got his men bunched in 
the yards. I think he was playing for this from the first.” 

“Very likely,” said Judney. He took a deep breath. 

“ I was always frightened of something of this sort. Of 


TIMBER WOLVES 


257 


course, they can’t block us forever, but they can hold us up 
long enough to make trouble. Salter’s under contract to 
deliver his staves within a certain time.” 

“ I know that,” said Strangways. “ Well, Charley wants 
you along, George. They expect a scrap out of this. Garra- 
way came down and ordered our men from the yards. You 
know his take-your-orders-and-be-damned-to-you style. 
Charley’s mouth came open a foot wide. I swear I could 
count his tonsils.” 

Judney smiled grimly. 

“ I’ll go along with you this very minute. Joe can stop 
here and see none of Slum’s men interfere with the camp. 
It’s what they would do, if they got a chance. If they’s a 
scrap coming I’d like to do my share. I’m not too old yet 
to get in a jolt or two that’ll hurt some one.” 

He stood a moment looking at his friends . . . lean, gray 
and wrinkled as an old badger, yet with the confident poise 
which bespoke the eternal youth of that fighting spirit which 
had carried him triumphantly over half a century of adven- 
turing. 

“ Well, solong, Joe,” he said unemotionally. 

Outside Frame’s mill yards a curious scene was being 
enacted. By the side of the line a number of men were 
grouped around Charley Salter and Pete. A little apart 
stood Heritage, his face flushed and angry. A rough barrier 
of dead-wood had been hastily erected across the gap which 
gave entry to the yards themselves. On the far side of this 
barrier, his arms resting on the rough spars, was Garraway. 
At his side was the government freight clerk, Samuels, with 
Gus Rebner peering over his shoulder. Behind them again, 
and spread fan- wise so as to control both the approaches to 
the sheds, were the remainder of Frame’s bush-whackers, a 
motley crew attired in almost every conceivable array of 
undress. The low hum of voices filled the air. 

As Judney and Strangways slipped quietly in among their 
friends Garraway began to address himself directly to Heri- 
tage. 

“ They keep telling me you’re a lawyer. Well, what sort 
of a game do you call this? You apply for trucks and can’t 
get them. You’re told civilly enough that there ain’t any 
available. It’s a thing that might happen to any one. If 
you’d known your business you’d have ordered what you 


TIMBER WOLVES 


258 

wanted months ago ; the same as I did. It’s your own fault. 
Why come sniveling to me about it ? ” 

“ Because we know perfectly well that you made a corner 
deliberately,” said Heritage, hotly. “ This is a scheme pure 
and simple. I warn that man there that if he doesn’t imme- 
diately forward our application to the proper authorities 
I’ll report him as incompetent. We applied for a string of 
trucks over a fortnight back. Why aren’t they here ? ” 

“ I told you there weren’t any available,” said Samuels 
sulkily. “ On a small gauge line like this the accommodation 
is limited. First come, first served. You’ve to wait your 
turn. We can’t serve the lot of you at once. As for your 
application I sent it along the day you lodged it. I told you 
what the reply was.” 

“ Show me the correspondence,” said Heritage quickly. 

Garraway interposed with a laugh. 

“Nothing doing! Tell them to go hang themselves, 
Samuels.” 

“ You land thieves,” said Heritage, with all the contempt 
he could muster. “ You couldn’t go straight for five minutes. 
You’re crooked as h — 11.” 

The manager’s face went purple. He climbed to the top 
of the barrier and beat on the rough wood with his clenched 
fist. 

“ That’s enough from you. I’ll tell you this much. 
You’re on Frame’s land now, whatever you were on that last 
time. Get away home, the lot of you. You make me tired. 
Why, you poor dubs, did you think you could get to wind- 
wards of a man like Sam Frame? Before he’s finished with 
you you’ll wish to God you’d had sense enough to mind your 
own business.” 

“Just a second, Mr. Garraway,” said Heritage, choking. 
“ I suppose you’re counting on Frame’s political pull to get 
him free of any dirty work he likes to tackle. Don’t be too 
sure of that ! We’re not entirely without influence ourselves. 
You can threaten as much as you like, but you’ll get a show- 
ing up one of these fine days that will make you sick.” 

In his excitement the young man would have said more, 
but that Pete Diamond gripped his arm warningly. 

“ Go easy, Jack,” he advised. “If they want a rough-up 
let them start it themselves.” 

Garraway still held his position on top of the barrier. He 


TIMBER WOLVES 


259 

was joined by Rebner. The latter looked about him with a 
sneer. 

“ You’re a whale of a lawyer, you are, Heritage. You 
don’t know the first thing about it. Out here we make the 
laws to suit ourselves. You go ahead playing hide-and-seek 
with that man Barkley, but don’t butt in on a man’s job.” 

Heritage turned in a flash. 

“ What? It’s you, Rebner, is it? I thought I’d quietened 
you for quite a long time. Looking for more, are you ? ” 

Even Garraway’s men joined in the laugh which greeted 
the taunt. Rebner snarled speechlessly. Before he could 
frame a reply Heritage once more addressed himself to 
Garraway : 

“ I’d like to make a final appeal to your commonsense. 
What do you hope to gain by holding us up in this manner? 
Sooner or later we’re bound to get the trucks we want. All 
through the piece we’ve kept to the letter of the law. We’ve 
gone about our work as quietly and decently as we could. I 
can’t say that of you. You can’t even say it of yourself. 
Now, don’t try us too far. If you do perhaps you’ll one day 
find the police along here to ask you a few leading questions.” 

Garraway had been doing some swift thinking. None 
knew better than himself the doubtful legality of his present 
action. That he should acquire every available truck on the 
small line connecting his mill with the shipping jetty at Sun 
Port was in itself of no unusual significance. Such might 
be accepted as the natural foresight of any firm anxious to 
fufill its business obligations without hitch. It had, indeed, 
frequently happened that, in order to cope with ever increas- 
ing orders, Frame found it necessary to wire him an order 
which practically amounted to a transport corner. Frame’s 
connection with officialdom had always enabled him to 
silence the grumblings of his small rivals up and down the 
line. 

The present occasion, however, differed to the extent that 
no such imperative necessity could be found. Busy they 
were undoubtedly ; yet recently additions had been made to 
the rolling stock on the line which amply provided against 
any possible increase of traffic. If it were suggested that 
the present shortage of trucks was the result of an under- 
standing between himself and the freight clerk, Garraway 
felt that unpleasant complications were likely to ensue. He 


26 o 


TIMBER WOLVES 


quickly decided therefore that it was necessary to introduce 
something in the nature of a diversion; to side-track the 
original argument, as it might be, by making a definite 
appeal to the anger of his opponents. If he could goad them 
to the point where they attempted to take the law into their 
own hands, so much would be ultimately in his favor. 
Garra way’s ever fertile malice suggested a dozen ways by 
which he might cause the action to be regarded as the 
outcome solely of uncharitable grievance or angry dis- 
appointment. Beyond that the manager’s mind refused to 
carry him. He saw only an opportunity to further entangle 
the situation to his advantage. Behind the intention lay 
infinite possibilities. The thought helped to swell his con- 
fidence. With a swift appraisement of the chances he de- 
cided on his line of action. 

“ You’ve said your say, now listen to me,” he boomed. 
“You talk of the police? You? Take my advice and 
leave the police alone. You’ve a deal more to fear from them 
than ever I have. As sure as you bring them into this you’ll 
be sorry to the end of time.” 

The threat was addressed to Heritage, but it was Charley 
Salter that answered. The stout man was scarlet. Per- 
spiration streaked his cheeks. His voice trembled with 
mingled annoyance and apprehension. 

“ You can’t jump the rails that way, Slum. We ain’t a 
mite to fear; and you know it.” 

“ I’m damned if I do,” snapped Garraway instantly. He 
looked at Salter with burning insolence. There’s gaol ahead 
for more than one of you.” 

“ Bluff, Slum . . . just bluff,” affirmed Salter. “ Maybe 
you’d like to tell us what you think you know. Come now ? ” 

The manager’s eyes flashed wickedly. 

“ I will then. Some one’s been peddling whisky in this 
camp ever since I took charge. It’s a business I don’t hold 
with for reasons of my own. For long enough I’ve tried to 
find out who was responsible, but I had no luck until just 
awhile ago. I’m learning things fast. And what I can 
learn, so can the police. They’ll find the man they want 
among your crowd. I’ll go further than that. If you like 
I’ll put a name to him. Ah, I thought that would hit you.” 

The stout man’s face was a study in bewilderment. The 
unexpectedness, the absurdity of the accusation almost de- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


261 


prived him of coherence. He puffed out his cheeks in 
indignant amazement. 

“ Well, by gum! You’ve got gall, you have. You mean 
to tell me that one of us would mix in a dirty business like 
that? Not on your life, Slum. Come again, you big 
Annanias — you. One of my men, eh ? ” 

“ I said it,” repeated Garraway watchfully. He hesitated 
the fraction of a minute. “ It’s one of your men, right 
enough. If you want his name ...” he paused a second 
time, his tongue moistening his thick lips . . . “ how will 
Pete Diamond suit you ? ” 

There was an electric silence. The air seemed of a sudden 
to be charged with tremendous portent. Some one at the 
manager’s back laughed harshly ... a nasty, sneering laugh, 
fraught with infinite malice. 

For an instant Pete stood as if stunned. Then he strode 
past Heritage to where Garraway, wickedly watchful, 
crouched on the barrier. 

Again there came a pause as the eyes of the two big men 
met in one tremendous stare of burning hatred. Pete’s 
head went up ; his shoulders set squarely. And then with 
a suddenness totally unlooked for, his hands went out and 
gripped Garraway by the neck, as a terrier grips a rat, 
plucking the manager from his perch and sending him reeling 
with a terrific smash in the face. 

“ You damnable liar and crook,” shouted the cattleman. 

Garraway came back bellowing with rage. Hitting sav- 
agely the two men clinched and spun madly across the narrow 
intervening space. 

It was the signal for a general melee. With a swiftness 
which hinted at prearranged, concerted action, Frame’s men 
swarmed to the attack. For the second time since com- 
ing to Timber Bend Heritage found himself the unwilling 
center of a fighting, blaspheming mob. He had a confused 
impression of swirling faces and wildly threshing limbs; 
the reek of sweat filled his nostrils ; his ears rang with the 
dull thud of blows. Long since he had lost sight of Pete and 
Garraway. They had vanished in that first wild onrush of 
the crowd. Heritage fought on doggedly; heartened, all 
at once, by the recognition of George Judney at his side. 
As previously they fought their way to the outskirts of the 
mob. On the point of escape they were taken unawares 


262 


TIMBER WOLVES 


by a wave of fighting and driven inwards again. A man 
sprang at Heritage with a hardwood stave uplifted to strike. 
The tide caught him and swept him onwards before he could 
deliver the blow. Heritage had a momentary glimpse of his 
face. Somehow he was not in the least surprised to recog- 
nize the greasy black hair and pale, spiteful eyes of Gus 
Rebner. 

All at once the jam of bodies loosened. As by common 
consent both parties drew off for breathing space. With 
Judney on one side of him and Steve Strangways on the 
other, Heritage backed against a log stack and came to rest 
panting. His head rang, and the knuckles of both his hands 
were raw and bleeding. Judney was in even worse shape. 
The hut-keeper’s beard was a mat of red. As Heritage 
looked anxiously at him he grinned and spat out a couple of 
dislodged teeth. Strangways nursed a twisted arm. 

Heritage found himself looking round for Charley Salter. 
Discovering him the young man could hardly restrain a 
grin of sheer amusement. The stout leader had jammed his 
unwieldy bulk into the burnt-out hollow of a gum shell. 
On his face was a ludicrous expression of horror. His eyes 
protruded ; his features were puckered like those of an in- 
fant on the verge of tears. His two hands grasped the 
handle of an iron hand-dog. He held the weapon before 
him determinedly, yet it was plain he dreaded the thought of 
using it. Sooner would he burrow still deeper into the 
sheltering recess of the tree which had been his refuge for 
the past few minutes. 

Heritage went towards Salter with the idea of learning 
what more might be expected. Half-way there he was 
joined by Pete Diamond. To all appearance the cattleman 
had emerged from the struggle with nothing more serious 
than a bruised face and some damage to his clothing. Heri- 
tage found himself wondering how Garraway had fared. 

“ Slum ain’t hurt any more than me,” said Pete, appearing 
to guess the thought. “ The rush pulled us apart.” 

He was interrupted by Charley Salter. The stout man had 
dropped his weapon. He stood looking at his friends with 
lack-luster eyes. He exclaimed feebly : 

“ Gosh, what a mix-up ! Did I kill anybody ? Good 
boys. I seen you laying it on, Jack. Whoof . . . jess 
like that ! Good God, what are we going to do now ? ” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


263 


“ Pull out and talk it over, I suppose,” said Pete. His 
jaw set stubbornly. “ I’ve a mind to hunt Garraway out 
and finish it.” 

“ Let be — let be ! ” advised Salter querulously. “ Pete, 
you know what Jeannie thinks.” 

“ Garraway is calling to us,” interjected Heritage. 

Pete turned swiftly about, his big body poised as lightly 
as a cat’s. Garraway approached them slowly, his hand 
raised as if to indicate a truce. Heritage saw that the man- 
ager limped. His shirt, ripped almost to the waist, disclosed 
a hairy body mottled with bruises. 

“ Hold your men away, Salter,” he rumbled, while yet at a 
distance. “ This thing’s gone too far now to be settled by a 
scrap. We’ll see what the courts think of it. Trespass and 
assault, eh? I’ll see you right through to the end now. 
You took the lid off hell when you started this fight and 
you’re going to smell sulphur till your nose burns.” 

Pete laughed derisively. 

“ What a bluffer you are, Slum. You know too much to 
bring the law into this. Try it and see how you get on.” 

Garraway looked at him bitterly. 

“ I think I will. In the meantime clear off this land. 
That’s my order as Mr. Frame’s manager. You can please 
yourselves, of course, whether you go or not. But I can 
tell you this much, the next mix-up will be the last for some 
of you. In half an hour if you ain’t gone I’ll finish this to 
suit myself.” 

He turned away quivering. 

Pete looked curiously at Salter. 

“ Well, Charley, what about it? You’re the boss. Do we 
go, or don’t we ? And if we do, what’s the next move ? ” 

The stout man emerged with difficulty from his refuge. 
He stood a moment rubbing his hands and gazing after Gar- 
raway’s retreating figure. 

“ I know how you feel, Pete,” he said at length, “ but it 
ain’t any use. Slum’s got enough men there to eat us up. 
We’ll go home and talk it over. Gosh! what a mix-up. 
Any one hurt ? ” 

“ Nothing to speak of, I believe,” said Heritage. A sudden 
thought occurred to him. “ By the way, what became of 
Login? He was here when the argument began, but I 
haven’t seen him since.” 


264 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Don’t know and don’t care,” said the stout man crossly. 
“ I seen him edging to one side jess as Pete yanked Garra- 
way off the fence, and that’s all I know. Maybe he hadn’t 
any stomach for scrapping.” Salter looked at Heritage 
appealingly, “ I . . . they’s times, you know, Jack, when a 
man’s liver is kind of bilious.” 

“ Certainly,” assented Heritage gravely. He exchanged 
a delighted wink with Pete. “ In that case, of course, it’s 
always well to avoid excitement.” 

The cattleman was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“ We’d best get back to work, Charley. The men’s pay 
is going on all the time. We can talk about this to-night.” 

Salter suddenly awakened to consciousness of his leader- 
ship. 

“ Gosh ! look at the sun, will you ? Pete, round the lads 
up. We’ll get right back to the stacking.” 

He turned to Heritage : 

“ Jack, I’d be glad if you’d take along a message to Mrs. 
Salter, if you ain’t too done up p’raps you won’t mind going. 
Jean’ll give you your tea. Or maybe you’ll be calling in at 
Adaire’s ? ” 

“ Of course I’ll go,” said Heritage. “ I’ll go back to camp 
and brush up a bit first though. Don’t want to frighten the 
ladies into fits. What’s your message ? ” 

As he passed the cook’s hut on the way to his tent he was 
cheered by the sight of Solium Joe sitting on the doorstep 
with his ancient shot-gun balanced across his knees. The 
little man waved to him excitedly. 

“ They tell me Slum got it in the neck ? ” he shrilled. 

Heritage grinned and went on to his tent. Here a sur- 
prise awaited him. Pinned to the canvas wall was a sheet of 
paper. On it was printed in clumsy characters : 

“ Heritage ... if you want Barkley why don’t you ask 
Adaire ? ” 

There was no signature. 

“ Well, I’ll be darned,” ejaculated the young man. He 
held the paper up to the light and examined it again carefully, 
racking his brains to discover who might have sent the 
message. 

“ But I have asked Adaire,” he thought. Then laughed 
to find he had spoken the words aloud. He threw the paper 
on his bunk while he changed his clothes. With the healthy 


TIMBER WOLVES 


265 

man s contempt of anonymity in the matter of correspon- 
dence, he strove to cut the thing from his mind. Yet some- 
how he found himself repeating the message in his thoughts 
with a persistence little short of annoying. He picked up the 
paper and studied it anew, but could make nothing of it. 

“ Confound it, I’ve asked Adaire a hundred times,” he 
said to himself. “ Well, if will please anybody I’ll ask 
him again. No harm in that. Now I wonder what some- 
body’s game is ? ” 

Of course the whole thing was a hoax of some kind. Still 
it would serve as an excuse to call in at Adaire’s on his way 
back from Salter’s. Regarded in that light the message 
was a blessing in disguise. Since Heritage had shifted his 
quarters to the camp in the bush he had seen little of the 
Adaires. Now he would call in and see how the old man 
was faring. He would see Peggy too, of course. 

The last thought set Heritage’s heart beating even more 
rapidly than had the strenuous tussle of a short half-hour 
back. Quite suddenly he understood what this girl meant to 
him. He was amazed to discover the passion that surged 
over him on remembrance of her sweet face, the winning 
tones of her voice. To see this wonder-girl again and speak 
to her ... to feast glad eyes on her shy ones. . . . 

Outside the tent the little clearing lay shadow-barred 
beneath the clouded rays of the setting sun. The air was 
sweet with the fragrance of evening. In the spreading heads 
of the trees the night wind stirred softly with the musical 
cadence of far-away harps, through which pierced faintly the 
curiously human murmur of the waves creeping up the wide 
beaches of the coast beyond. The sounds wove themselves 
to an exquisite sympathy, seeming as the hushed and reverent 
harmony of some invisible choir that sang the lullaby of 
drowsing earth. 

To Heritage, flushed and trembling, the moment was one 
of infinite wonder. His imagination peopled the quiet spaces 
of the bush with a multitude of dead and gone lovers 
whose voices joined in one vast symphony of throbbing 
echoes. Down the aeons their songs were calling . . . call- 
ing tumultuously. 

With hands that shook he fastened the flap of the tent. 


CHAPTER XVII 


O LD Phil Adaire greeted his daughter's return with 
undisguised relief. 

“ I'm afraid I'm getting too old and crochety to 
be satisfied for long with my own company,” he confessed 
whimsically. “ Of course, I’ve been glad for you to have 
Jean’s company, but it's been lonely without you, Peg.” 

The girl patted his arm affectionately. 

“ You poor old dad. Why, I worried quite a lot about 
you. And you're really glad to have me back, eh? ” 

“ Child, what a question.” He smiled at her mistily. 
“ Don't you know you’re all I have ? Could I be happy for 
long without you? And yet, of course, I can’t always 
expect to have you with me. Youth must be served. Some- 
times I’ve been troubled to think that my selfishness has 
spoiled your life. You should be among the young folks. 
I’ve kept you here away from life and . . . and love.” 

Her soft hand on his lips checked his further utterance. 
“Daddy . . . how can you? As if anything would mat- 
ter so long as we are together. I won’t listen to a word. 
The idea of your reproaching yourself. I’ve been perfectly 
happy. Do you hear? I’ve been tremendously happy. 
And why not? When I’ve got the dearest father in the 
world.” 

The old man’s lips trembled. 

“ Do you think so, child ? I’ve tried my best to do what 
was right for us both. Yet I can’t deny that young people 
find greatest happiness in themselves. One day, please God, 
I shall take you back to the light and laughter where you 
belong. Just a little while longer, Peg; just a little time. 
Surely everything will come right in a little time.” 

A troubled look passed over Peggy’s face. 

“ Of course, dear. Now you just settle down and rest. 
I’m going to tidy up the house. Goodness! what untidy 
things men are. It’s high time I came home.” 

Towards evening she escaped gladly into the open air and 
wandered slowly along the crest of the hill. Heritage, turn- 

266 


TIMBER WOLVES 267 

ing a corner of the track, came suddenly upon her and 
halted in sheer enjoyment of the surprise. 

P e &&y smiled a little at his confused greeting. 

“ I believe you are ashamed of yourself for neglecting us 
so badly of late,” she said. “ Of what use is a boarder who 
spends all his time grubbing away in the bush. Oh, Mr. 
Heritage, do tell me the news ! I can see by your face that 
something has happened.” 

“ Garraway has launched a counter-attack,” he told her. 
He related the events of the afternoon. “ But I think we 
shall weather through all right,” he finished. “ The inci- 
dent is annoying, but hardly dangerous. I’m bound now for 
Salter’s with a message for the old lady. On my way back 
I intended to call and see your father. For that matter I 
still mean to. Should I be disturbing him, do you think? ” 

“ Why should you think so ? ” The puzzled look on her 
face made Heritage inwardly revile his trick of conventional 
speech. More than ever he recognized the inherent sim- 
plicity of these people so far removed from the multilo- 
quence of modern society. 

“ He is well, I hope ? ” he asked, in an effort to cover his 
self-disgust. 

“ He is very quiet, but otherwise well. You know I have 
been staying with Jean Salter. I only returned home to- 
day. Father missed me, I think. And sometimes he is 
very depressed. It is like that with him now. He just sits 
and seems to brood.” 

“ I wish I could do something to help you cheer him up,” 
said Heritage sincerely. 

Both the girl and himself were unaware of a sudden 
swaying of the bushes a bare twenty paces away. Into the 
open stepped Tom Login. For a moment he regarded the 
unconscious pair with a hateful sneer. Then he moved si- 
lently away in the direction of Adaire’s house. 

“ You know that I would do anything to please your fa- 
ther ... or yourself,” continued Heritage gently. He 
stole a swift glance at her face, his heart leaping absurdly 
as he met the friendliness in her gray eyes. Never had she 
seemed so sweet, so eminently desirable. “ I wonder if I 
could persuade you to walk a little of the way to Salter’s 
with me? I could tell you something of what we have 
been doing at the camp.” 


268 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Peggy smiled at him frankly. A wave of color came 
over her face. 

“ Just a little way then. I should enjoy the walk. All 
day Eve been shut indoors, and I do so love the open. Isn’t 
the summer delicious? One soft, scented evening like this 
and all the long, cold days of winter are forgotten. If only 
we might forget our troubles as easily. And yet how much 
there is to be thankful for.” 

Heritage nodded silently. At that moment he hardly 
dared trust himself to speak, so fateful were the words 
which trembled on his lips. Peggy looked at him in sudden 
concern. 

“Does my chatter tire you? How selfish of me. You 
are tired with your work already. Please forgive me.” 

She touched his arm contritely. At the contact the last 
vestige of self-control deserted him. He stopped in his 
stride so abruptly as almost to startle her. For a long mo- 
ment he gazed at her tongue-tied, devouring her slender 
beauty with his eyes. Then the barriers that pent his love 
went headlong under a flood of pleading passionate words. 

“ Peggy . . . my Peggy Adaire! No; don’t shrink from 
me. Good God ! do you think I would harm the tiniest hair 
of your dear head. If I frighten you, forgive me. How 
can I keep silence any longer? If I could only find words 
to make you understand how much you are to me . . . how 
I love and honor you above all women. Dearest . . . why, 
you’re trembling . . . you’re trembling ? ” 

He caught her hands in his own, where they seemed to 
flutter like the soft wings of a prisoned bird. She swayed 
a little on her feet and her eyes half closed. As he waited 
in an agony of suspense they widened again with such a 
glory of light in their gray depths that he caught his breath 
in wonder. 

“ Peggy ? . . .” he cried. 

Her voice came hardly above a whisper. 

“ Jack . . . Oh, I’ve cared . . . always, it seems.” 

Low as the words were, his eager ears caught them. 

“ My dearest . . . my wonder girl ! ” 

He crushed her to him, lifting her arms about his neck so 
that their faces almost touched. The breath from between 
her parted lips intoxicated him like a draught of wine ; the 
warmth of her young body, clinging to his in a kind of inno- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


269 


cent abandon, stirred him to an awed reverence that 
plumbed the very depths of his manhood. Slowly, almost 
fearfully, he met her lips. 

All around them lay the silver dusk, wrapping the old 
plains in a veil of pulsing luminance that stretched on and 
on into the deepening void of the night sky. From the 
purple shadows of the timber belt Heritage's invisible choir 
flooded the world with an ecstasy of whispered melody. 
And overhead the stars . . . pin-points of glory pricked 
upon the shadowy curtain of the dark. 

Very gently Heritage released the girl. His voice came 
a little hoarsely : 

“ Peggy . . . how wonderful ! That you should care for 
me. I had hoped . . . and yet how desperately I feared. 
Some things are beyond our understanding. If I fail in 
any one thing towards you, may God do so to me — and 
more also.” 

She smiled up at him with absolute trust. 

“ I know. I don’t try to understand. I only know that 
I love and am loved. Jack . . . how dear the world is.” 

“Your father?” asked Heritage' presently. “I wonder 
what he will say? He will understand surely.” 

“ I couldn’t bear to leave him yet,” said the girl softly. 
“ Jack . . . why is it, I wonder, that even in our greatest 
happiness lies coiled a sting? Poor old dad . . . such 
chums we’ve always been! Such a dear father. When 
. . . my mother died, I was all he had to love. He would 
die of loneliness. . . .” 

Heritage laughed happily. 

“We won’t give him the chance. Dear, do you think I 
would part you? Where we go so must he. Our home 
shall be his home. You will tell him to-night?” 

“Yes. You must go now. But you will come back?” 

“ As soon as I deliver my message,” said Heritage. He 
kissed her gently. “ When you hear me whistle run up to 
the gate to meet me. Good-by ... for just a little while 
. . . my wonder girl.” 

Peggy stood looking after him until the darkness swal- 
lowed him from her sight. Then, with glowing cheeks, she 
turned homewards. A light greeted her from the window 
of the sitting-room. The blind was not drawn, and she 
could see the frail figure of her father seated by the table. 


270 


TIMBER WOLVES 


At sight of him a little tender smile came on her lips and 
she quickened her footsteps. 

As she entered the room Adaire straightened abruptly. 
He turned half round; then, recognizing her, sank back 
again into his chair. In his attitude was something so 
furtive, so entirely foreign to his usual deliberate manner 
that the girl was filled with a nameless foreboding. She 
slipped an arm about his neck. 

“ Daddy . . . aren’t you well ? Oh, what is it ? ” 

Adaire looked at her in silence. To Peggy’s shocked 
consciousness he appeared suddenly to have become inde- 
scribably old and shrunken. The misery of his eyes fright- 
ened her. All at once she felt her happiness slipping from 
her like a garment. She dropped on her knees by the side 
of the chair. 

“ Daddy . . . Oh, daddy ! Don’t look at me like that. 
Something has happened. Oh, what is it ? ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


H ERITAGE made no mention to the Salters of his 
meeting with Peggy Adaire. Just then he felt that 
it was impossible for him to share this wonderful 
confidence with others. A great new fact had entered his 
life. He wanted to hug it to himself — exulting, yet a lit- 
tle bewildered; tasting each thought a thousand times, as 
one might taste, by drops, some precious elixir miraculously 
evidenced before his delighted eyes. For a brief while he 
touched the heights of exaltation; the future, rose-tinted, 
glowing with wonderful dreams that led onward to an ec- 
stasy of thought. 

As Heritage swung light-heartedly across the slope of the 
hill on his return journey, his eager eyes were quick to dis- 
cover the white-clad figure of the girl waiting at the gate 
ahead. He called instantly: “Peg? Is it you, dearest? 
To see you there so still and quiet ... do you know what 
it reminds me of? It brings back to me the night I first 
saw you, that wonderful, moon-kissed night in the garden 
where you sang your way into my heart. After that there 
was never a thought of any other girl for me. The gleam 
of your eyes and the sheen of your hair . . .” he broke off 
suddenly, his heart fluttering at his throat. “ Peggy, what’s 
wrong? Why do you stare at me so? You are not ill? 
Good God, you almost frightened me.” 

“ Did I ? ” said the girl, in a low voice. “ I’m sorry. 
I did not wish to do that. No; I am not ill. Just a little 
tired and . . . unhappy.” 

Heritage peered incredulously. 

“Unhappy? You? On this wonderful, wonderful 
night? Why, little girl, that can’t be. And yet your voice 
. . . You’re overtired. It was selfish of me to ask you to 
wait for me like this. I never thought that way. I had no 
thought of anything but just to see you again ... to keep 
on telling you, over and over, how I love and honor you 
above all women . . . you dear, sweet, glorious girl.” 
Peggy raised her hand to her throat as if it were hurting. 
271 


2J2 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Oh, don’t . . . don’t ! ” She seemed to struggle, as if 
the words would not come. Through the branching leaves 
of the gums the faint light of the stars shone directly on 
her white, upturned face. “ Don’t say that any more. 
Never any more. It was all a . . . mistake. How you 
will hate me. It was a mistake. I can be nothing to you. 
I want to tell you that before it is too . . . late. It was 
all a mistake.” 

In the stark silence that followed the stammered words 
she heard the sharp, bewildered intake of his breath. She 
saw his shoulders straighten ominously. 

“ A mistake ? Peggy ... do you know what you are 
saying? It was not a mistake.” He paused; and once 
more came that agonized catching of his breath. Into his 
voice came a grim note. “ Unless, of course, you have only 
been . . . amusing yourself with me. There are some girls, 
I know, that ... do that sort of thing. But you ... ? ” 
Of a sudden he broke out passionately. “ But you . . . 
you are not like that. You’re not that kind of ... of 
beautiful devil. There’s something behind this that I know 
nothing of. What is it? To say you do not love me is not 
enough. You do love me. Your lips may hide the truth, 
but your eyes ... I read it in your eyes ... God, how 
long ago was it? Are heaven and hell so close together 
then? Peggy . . . won’t you believe that nothing has hap- 
pened — nothing could happen to part us? I will not let 
you go.” 

He made a quick movement towards her but Peggy stayed 
him with a gesture. He drew back again with a bitter 
laugh. 

“It is true then? And yet . . . how can I believe it? 
To me the thing appears incredible. Simply to have amused 
yourself with me. God forgive me, what am I saying? 
Not you — not you to do a thing like that. Others might ; 
but you’re too sweet and clean and honest-souled to send a 
man to hell that way. Peggy . . . Peggy ; won’t you trust 
me, dear? ” 

With sudden passion he caught her to him, smothering 
her face against his. This time she made no effort to repel 
him. For one blessed moment she clung to him — speech- 
lessly, trembling in every limb. But only for a moment. 
Very gently she freed herself from his arms. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


273 


“No, Jack; not again, never again. Oh ... at the 
least let me be honest with you — and myself. I dare not 
deny my love. At first I tried ... I thought it would be 
the kindest . . . Life was such a beautiful thing. I was 
so happy . . . too happy. And now? . . . My dear — my 
dear, I do love you . . . with all my heart and soul. I 
thank God that I may take that much of comfort with me 
to help face the years to come. And yet there is a barrier 
between us that may not yield to any earthly persuasion. 
Oh, do you think I would speak like this if I were not 
sure ? Even although you do not understand — and I pray 
God you will never understand — won’t you believe that 
this is irrevocable? That is the hardest part of all — that 
I can never explain. Am I not suffering, too? Yet I know 
that it is better to part from you now in the courage of a 
love unshamed by any selfish thought, than later to bow 
to the inevitable. The kindest thing that might happen 
for both of us would be for you to leave this place for- 
ever. And I can tell you that, even though my heart is 
breaking.” ) 'ji| 

“ But why ? In God’s name, why ? ” burst out Heritage. 
For him this meant the end of all things, the renunciation 
of the most beautiful ideal of his life, the shattering forever 
of a wonderful, God-sent dream. In a flash his mind went 
back to the day when first he came to The Bend. Here 
once more, when he had thought to have made an end of it 
forever, was the same baffling complexity of purpose, the 
same damnable intrusion of the unknown. The bitter in- 
justice of it all drove him well-nigh frantic. 

“ You want me to leave you — to forget you. Such a 
thing is not possible. You ask too much. Can’t you see 
that it is too late now ? Iam deliberately to thrust aside my 
happiness and yours for . . . what? For aught I know 
some happening, some misunderstanding, totally unworthy 
of the sacrifice. A few hours ago you could promise your 
whole life to me; now you refuse me even the confidence that 
is mine of right. I’m blind to even a suspicion of what has 
happened. I’m like a man groping in the dark. I haven’t 
even the chance to fight for my happiness. Peggy . . . 
are you going to send me out of your life without a word 
of reasonable explanation? ” 

He heard her sob in the darkness. 


274 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ You make it doubly hard for me. No; don’t touch me 
again. I daren’t trust myself to remember. There is noth- 
ing else I can say. You must think of me as you will.” 

The suffering in her voice silenced him as nothing else 
could have. All at once his mood changed. An infinite 
pity took possession of him. 

“ As you will then, Peggy,” he said gently. “ I don’t 
understand, of course. And it seems fated that my life 
here should be one of continual misunderstanding and per- 
plexity. But I’m not going to distress you any further. 
So far as I can I will obey your wishes. I would even 
leave Timber Bend, if by so doing I could best serve your 
interest, only that just now is out of the question. I will 
stand by my friends until they have no further need of me. 
When that time comes . . . and yet I believe that one day 
you will give me your whole confidence. You must . . . 
you surely must.” 

“ Never ! ” whispered the girl passionately. 

“ That is as God wills,” said Heritage. 

He waited a moment ; then added quietly, “ Of course I 
had better go now. But first, if you don’t mind, I have a 
message to give your father from Mrs. Salter. May I go 
down to the house with you ? ” 

Peggy clutched his arm almost fiercely. 

“ You must not. My father is ill. Do you understand? 
He is ill. Oh, you are cruel to me.” 

“ I seem to be everything I shouldn’t be,” said Heritage, 
with a momentary return to bitterness. “ I promise you 
that I shall not worry your father. A few moments will 
suffice to deliver Mrs. Salter’s message. Then I will go. 
Are you so eager then to put me out of your life that you 
grudge me these few last moments in your presence ? ” 

“ Very well,” said Peggy, after a moment’s silence. She 
turned wearily away. “ I will try to find him for you. 
And first let me see him. He may be . . . asleep. If you 
will wait a little here ... at the door? . . .” 

Heritage heard her moving about the house. Once he 
heard her voice calling softly: “ Daddy? Where are you? 
It is only Peggy.” Presently she entered the sitting-room 
and a little pause ensued. Then came the sound of a stifled 
cry. Unable to contain himself any longer Heritage walked 
quickly inside. 


TIMBER WOLVES 275 

Peggy was standing by the table. She looked up at the 
young man dully. 

“ My father is not here. He . . . some urgent business 
has called him away. I am to ... go to Salter’s until he 
returns.” 

“ Of course,” said Heritage. He was supremely con- 
scious of the inanity of the remark, but for the life of him 
could find nothing further to say. He seemed to be living in 
a nightmare of unreality. His mind appeared unable to reg- 
ister further surprise. He told himself in a kind of des- 
peration : “ I shall wake up in a minute and find Fve 

dreamt all this. Or else I’m going mad.” 

The girl was already making preparations for departure. 
Heritage, his mind a chaos of conflicting emotions, went 
softly through the house closing and bolting the windows 
and securing the doors. When he returned he found Peggy 
waiting for him on the veranda. 

“ I’ll take you over to Salter’s, of course,” said Heritage 
gently. “You won’t refuse me that much . . . Peggy?” 

She seemed to shiver and press still closer to him. 

“ I shall be glad if you would,” she said in a low voice. 

Left to itself the old house appeared to shrink still more 
deeply into the silence of the night. As the hours passed 
by, the myriad stars that twinkled overhead were blotted one 
by one behind the hurrying clouds that swept the skies in 
sullen flight from the approaching dawn. The darkness 
settled closer together. The uncanny hooting of an owl that 
flew witch-like over the hill, filled the night with distorted 
echoes. 

Presently another sound arose. There came the whining 
slur of rusting hinges as the garden gate swung open to the 
touch of a dim figure that slunk animal-like from the black 
shadow of the timber. It circled silently about the house, 
testing the locked doors and windows with hands that shook 
in angry disappointment. The house lay inert against the 
wall of night; silent, deserted; robbed of that impalpable 
atmosphere which emanates from human occupancy. As 
if in understanding the crouching figure straightened itself 
suddenly with a muttered curse. As it had come, so it 
vanished — in slinking silence, treading ghoul-like upon the 
darkness, to melt swiftly away. 


CHAPTER XIX 


O LD Phil Adaire’s sudden departure caused his 
friends some wonderment. If they had expected 
enlightenment from Peggy they found themselves 
quickly deceived. The girl said simply that her father had 
been called away upon a matter of urgent private business. 
More she appeared unable to tell them. 

With this Adaire’s friends were forced to content them- 
selves. As it happened, they found little time for specula- 
tion of any kind. So strenuous was the nature of the task 
which confronted them that Adaire’s absence was quickly 
overshadowed by problems more immediate and serious. 
Heritage, back in the bush once more, threw himself dog- 
gedly into his work, glad of anything that might serve to 
distract his mind from the bitterness that obscured it. At 
Salter’s request he had written to the tramway authorities 
making forcible application for transport. Within a few 
days he received a reply stating that the matter would be 
looked into immediately. It was further promised that 
trucks would be consigned through to Salter as soon as they 
were available. The assurance given them appeared definite 
enough, and with it Salter professed himself satisfied. The 
stout man, true to his mercurial temperament, had recov- 
ered his spirits amazingly. 

“ I told you it was jess a bit of Samuel’s dirt,” he re- 
marked to Pete, on receipt of the intelligence. “ He’ll 
mighty near lose his job over this; you see if he don’t.” 

“ I’m not worrying about that part of it, so long as the 
trucks come to hand when we want them,” said the cattle- 
man thoughtfully. “ We’ve got to make delivery in a few 
weeks now, don’t forget ; or else pay a forfeit for each day 
short.” 

For a second Salter looked worried. 

“ I know. I’m kind of sorry Jack let us in for that part 
of it, but it’s too late now. They say it’s the usual thing, 
anyhow. And I don’t see any need to lose sleep just yet. 
Garraway can’t hold us up forever.” 

276 


TIMBER WOLVES 


277 


The days passed rapidly. At the yards the stave-stacks 
grew to huge proportions. Stung by a spasm of caution 
the stout man had made provision against possible inter- 
ference here. George Judney and Solium were now in- 
stalled as watchmen in a hut erected on the yard boundary. 
Salter’s instructions were fiercely definite. 

“If one of Garraway’s wasters set foot on our ground 
jess empty him off again with the sharp end of a stave,” 
had said the stout man. “If he comes back, get to work on 
your bottle horn and we’ll be ’long before you can count 
your corns. But you’ll find they’ll leave us alone.” 

Back on the farm Mrs. Salter and the two girls found 
plenty to occupy themselves. Pete’s kangaroo dog was now 
in Jean’s care. The cattleman had decided to leave Pup at 
the farm for two reasons ; first, because the animal would 
afford some protection to the women while the menfolk 
were away; and secondly, because Pup had been in some 
danger of hurt at the hands of Garraway’s bushwhackers. 
These, only too anxious to display their spite, lost no oppor- 
tunity to harass the big dog. Login’s enmity was espe- 
cially marked. Nor was Pup backward in retaliating to the 
limit of his opportunity. There was something almost hu- 
man in the fierceness of his antipathy for the squat section 
boss. 

Peggy Adaire had become strangely quiet and even dis- 
pirited. Jean Salter, watching her friend anxiously from 
day to day yet unable to guess at the cause of her despon- 
dency, became quickly alarmed. 

“ Peg, this won’t do,” she declared finally. “ You stay 
indoors too much, and you’re working too hard. I’ve a 
suspicion also that you’re worrying about your father. 
Now I don’t know anything about the matter that called 
him away; but you can be sure that he will remain absent 
no longer than he can possibly help. Did he give you no 
hint of what the business was ? ” 

Peggy shook her head. 

“ I know no more than you. Only that he has gone.” 

“ Well, you’re not to worry, dear,” said Jean again, a 
trifle helplessly. There seemed nothing more that she could 
say. With a wistful glance at her friend’s averted face she 
returned to her work. 

Late that afternoon Peggy wandered out by herself along 


278 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the track leading to the tramline. Her head ached abomin- 
ably and she longed for the cool breeze of evening. As yet 
the air was still and close. By the side of the track the 
gum bushes hung motionless, oppressed and lifeless in the 
spell of the heat. In a little while the girl sat down to rest 
in a little pool of shade. The sound of approaching feet 
made her glance up wearily. At sight of Tom Login com- 
ing towards her Peggy’s eyes widened disgustedly. 

The squat section boss was in his shirt sleeves. He car- 
ried his hat in his hand, fanning it against his heat-reddened 
face. At sight of the girl he halted abruptly. 

“ Evening, Miss Peggy. I’m kind of lucky finding you 
here. I was coming along to see you, anyway.” Login 
sank his voice to a gruff whisper. There was a peculiar 
look in his wide-set eyes. “ I brought you a message from 
your dad.” 

Peggy rose to her feet quickly. Her distrust of this man 
was momentarily submerged under the flood of thankful- 
ness which poured into her heart at this evidence of her 
father’s thought for her. “Oh, Mr. Login, where is he? 
Did he send you to me ? Please tell me at once ? ” 

So great was her relief that she never paused to con- 
sider the' strangeness of her father’s choice of a messen- 
ger. She only knew that here at last was the news she 
craved. 

“ Why, he’s safe enough, I reckon,” said Login slowly. 
“ He ain’t well though. That’s what’s the matter with him 
. . . he ain’t over and above well. He thinks he’d get on 
better if you was to come and nurse him a spell. Only 
they’s no one else to know about him. He was partickler 
to say that. You wasn’t to go else.” 

“ Where is he ? ” repeated the girl eagerly. 

Login moistened his lips. He looked round carefully be- 
fore replying. 

“ He’s back there in the hut at Elbow Ridge. You’ll go 
along then ? ” 

“Yes — yes; of course,” said Peggy impatiently. She 
felt a vague distress as she met Login’s staring eyes. Her 
hands went to her throbbing temples. “ Tell him I’m com- 
ing .. . at once. And thank you for . . . for letting me 
know. Say that I’m coming almost at once. I must go 
home first.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


279 


Scarcely noticing Login’s muttered farewell she turned 
and walked slowly back along the track. At each step her 
head ached more fiercely. Of a sudden she began to be 
afraid that she was ill, too ill to make the trip to Elbow 
Ridge. The thought added to her suffering. By the time 
she reached the house the pain in her head was so intense 
that she was almost blind. 

When Jean Salter came into their bedroom a little later 
she found Peggy lying moaning on the bed. 

/'Peggy • • • Peggy!” she cried reproachfully. “Why 
didn’t you tell us your head was so bad? Into bed with 
you this minute.” 

“Jean, I can’t ... I can’t! Listen! daddy wants me. 
Do you hear? He sent a message to say he wants me to- 
night. He’s ill. I must go. And yet — how can I? I 
can’t see. My head . . .” 

“ You poor child,” said Jean softly. She gently pushed 
the girl back on the pillows. “ Of course you can’t go. It 
would be madness. But I can go.” 

“ You?” 

“ And why not, indeed ? Of course I can go. Peggy 
Adaire, aren’t we friends . . . the best ever? Can’t you 
trust me to look after your father as if he were my very 
own? And do you think that I haven’t known all this time 
that some dreadful trouble was on your mind? Let me 
share it. Or, if that is not possible, let me do what I may 
to help you. Tell me nothing, but do not refuse my friend- 
ship. Come, where is Mr. Adaire?” 

“ In the hut on Elbow Ridge,” said Peggy instantly — as 
a tired child might yield to the tender insistence of its 
guardian. “ Oh, Jean, will you tell him how I long to go 
to him. Perhaps he will have some message for me. I 
don’t know. I don’t seem to be able to think clearly. Jean, 
I was to go there alone. No one else must know where he 
is. You will promise me that?” 

“ Nobody shall know, dear,” said Jean quietly. Her blue 
eyes clouded a little. “ If only Pete were here to advise 
us . . . and yet not even Pete is to know anything of this. 
Now you’re not to worry another mite. I am going to El- 
bow Ridge now. I know the way quite well, although I 
haven’t been there for years. Now try to sleep; and in the 
morning you shall hear all kinds of good news.” 


280 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ How good you are to me,” whispered Peggy. For a 
moment the two girls clung together. Afterwards Peggy 
was to remember that moment as the most sacred in all their 
lives. “ How good and dear you have always been.” 

When Jean entered the sitting room already clothed for 
her journey, Mrs. Salter looked up at her with troubled 
eyes. 

“Jeannie, I can’t help being worried about that poor 
child in there. I heard a little of what you said.” The old 
lady clasped her hands nervously. Her quiet voice held a 
note of dread. “What’s wrong with Peggy? What’s 
wrong with all of us? Sometimes when I lay awake, in the 
night thinking, I get almost frightened. I wish your fa- 
ther and the others had never meddled in this business. 
We ain’t none of us happy like we used to be. There’s 
things in all this that I don’t understand. Where has Mr. 
Adaire gone to? And why has he gone? Why hasn’t 
Peggy told us something ? Jean, what’s wrong with 
things ? ” 

“ I wish I knew,” said Jean truthfully. She looked at 
her mother with a grave smile. “ Listen, dear ; we can’t 
force Peggy’s confidence. Perhaps, in a little while, we 
shall understand things better. Only be sure of this, that 
nothing can really hurt any of us so long as we fight our 
troubles cleanly. I want to live . . . and keep on living. 
I don’t think any one on earth can love life more than I do. 
You know that. And yet it’s so hard to guess at the fu- 
ture. What does it hold in store for any of us? God 
keep us unafraid.” 

“You’re going out?” said the old lady. 

“ For Peggy,” said Jean. “ I may be late home, but 
that’s not to worry you. Pup will be here to look after 
you, and I shall be quite safe.” 

It was night when Jean set out on her journey. Elbow 
Ridge was five miles from Salter’s farm, but the girl had no 
fear that she might miss her way. The prospect of a lonely 
walk across the plains and gullies did not deter her in the 
least. Rather she revelled in the idea. The luminous sky, 
the fragrant odor of the bush (accentuated, as it seems to 
be by the dry heat of early night) filled her with delight. 
She looked up at the great white bosom of the moon as at 
some well-loved friend. By its widening light she was able 


TIMBER WOLVES 


281 

to find her way unerringly towards the line of shadowed 
hills whereon lay the natural pathway known as Elbow 
Ridge. 

By degrees the way sloped gently upwards. In a little 
while Jean found herself traversing a deep gully that dipped 
suddenly from the moon-blanched plains to rise again with 
almost startling abruptness towards the north. Darkness 
gushed from every side ; but the vault of sky above, though 
yet fully illumined, showed deep blue and clear-cut with 
sapphire stars. On the crest of the hill rose the faintly 
discernible outline of the timber. 

As Jean continued on the walls of the gully closed yet 
more swiftly about her. The night breeze sucking through 
the narrow compass of the ravine, swayed the gum bushes 
to and fro in spectral shadow across the moon-lit back- 
ground of the cliff. Quite unexpectedly she found herself 
at the commencement of Elbow Ridge itself. Here a nar- 
row ledge of rock wound upwards about the face of the 
gorge after the manner of a spiral staircase. 

Arrived at the summit Jean stood a moment to recover 
her breath. In front of her, a light shining feebly from its 
one window, was the old prospector’s hut to which it ap- 
peared Adaire had so unaccountably come. The extraordi- 
nary sequence of events to which Jean owed her presence 
there at such a time frankly puzzled her. What possible 
reason could Adaire have for choosing such a spot in which 
to live away from his friends? What was his business 
there? And even supposing the old man to be ill, why 
should he send for Peggy rather than make shift to return 
to his own home. 

Just for a second Jean’s subconsciousness stirred un- 
easily. She was within an ace of yielding to the feeling of 
caution which swept over her. Then succeeded the recol- 
lection of her promise to Peggy, and she stepped forward 
resolutely and knocked on the closed door of the hut. 

The silence was broken sharply by the scraping of a chair 
suddenly drawn back. An indistinct voice shouted at her 
to come in. She did so without hesitation, mechanically 
closing the door again behind her. In utter astonishment 
she found herself confronted by Login and Gus Rebner. 
Of old Phil Adaire there was no sign whatever. 

In that first moment of entry Jean’s senses seemed abnor- 


282 


TIMBER WOLVES 


mally acute. She gained an impression of a wide, low- 
roofed interior with numberless bare poles stretched over- 
head from one wall-plate to another. The air was full of 
a musty penetrating odor which she was unable to define. 
In addition there was the sharp reek of raw spirit. This 
she recognized instantly, and her eyes flashed to the small 
pile of kegs at the end of the hut. Overhead, from one of 
the beams, swung a single oil lamp. 

An uneasy pause was broken by Login. He was on his 
feet by the side of a greasy board table. On his flat face 
was a kind of angry disappointment. 

“ What are you doing here ? ” he demanded roughly. 

For a single instant his gaze traveled to Rebner. The 
latter also rose to his feet. Login turned again to Jean. 

“ Who told you to come here? ” 

Jean was conscious of a sudden tightening at her temples. 
By the thickness of Login’s utterance she knew he had been 
drinking. She said as calmly as she was able: 

“ I came here to find Mr. Adaire. He sent a message 
saying that he was here — and ill. Peggy was unable to 
come. And so I came in her stead. Where is Mr. Adaire, 
please ? ” 

“ So that’s how it was ? ” said Login, ignoring the ques- 
tion. His eyes went over her slowly. “ i reckon I always 
was unlucky. It ain’t the first time I’ve set a dove-trap 
and caught a sparrow.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” said Jean quickly. Al- 
most for the first time in her life she felt the chill of fear. 
Never before had she seen Login like this. There was 
something abominable in his flushed face and staring eyes, 
the animal-like pose of his squat body and sprawling limbs! 
For the moment she was hardly aware of the presence of 
Rebner. She continued to meet Login’s gaze as if fasci- 
nated. All the evil tales she had heard of this man came 
swiftly to mind. 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” she said again. “ Will 
you tell me if Mr. Adaire is here? If not I must of course 
seek elsewhere.” 

“ The old man’s all right,” said Login carelessly. A sec- 
ond time he appeared to exchange glances with Rebner. It 
seemed to Jean, watching uneasily, that his breathing quick- 
ened. “If you’re here at all you must know a bit, eh? 


TIMBER WOLVES 


283 

Phil Adaire don’t want his name shouted all over the island. 
Move up closer and I’ll tell you what you want to know. 
You don’t know who might be listening, even in a place like 
this.” 

For a second Jean hesitated. Standing as she was di- 
rectly in front of the door, she had but to turn the handle 
behind her to escape into the welcome blackness of the night 
without. Yet she could not bring herself seriously to be- 
lieve that harm was intended. These men dare not harm 
her. And if Adaire were here she must know it. Could 
she face Peggy in the morning with the consciousness that 
her promise had gone unfulfilled because of a coward fear? 
The thought instantly steadied her. She took a step for- 
ward into the room — and then another. 

Then indeed she recognized her mistake. She saw Lo- 
gin lean over the table, his face flaming to a sudden thought. 
Seized with panic she turned, but too late. Rebner had 
slipped between herself and the door. 

Jean swung back again. Her lips had gone suddenly 
dry. The sound of her own voice, issuing thinly out of her 
throbbing throat, sounded in her ears like the far-away 
voice of a stranger. 

“ How dare you ! Open that door at once ! ” 

The protest brought no response save a low laugh from 
Login. He stepped round the end of the table and stood 
beside her, leering down at her indignant face. 

“ Pete’s girl, eh ? ” he snapped his thumb and finger to- 
gether. " That for Pete Diamond ! I reckon I’ll take a 
kiss from Pete’s girl.” 

His gorilla-like arm caught her by the waist, pulling her 
shrinking body towards him. In swift desperation she hit 
at him, beating his flat face with her clenched fists. Login 
laughed and strained her face to his own. And suddenly — 
unrealizingly, the horror in Jean’s brain crystallized into ter- 
rible action. She became primitive . . . atavistic ... a 
woman fighting for her womanhood. Her teeth closed on 
the flesh of Login’s cheek. With an oath of pain the man 
swung her away with such violence that she crashed back 
into the wall. She was round again in an instant, facing 
him with blanched face and widening eyes — aghast by 
what she had done. 

“ You damned little tiger-cat,” said the section boss, with 


284 


TIMBER WOLVES 


thick admiration. He made no attempt to follow her, but 
stood with his hand held to his torn cheek. Presently he 
turned to Rebner. 

“ The lady’s kind of shy when they’s company around. 
Maybe you’d like to take a walk, Gus ? ” 

“ Maybe I wouldn’t,” retorted Rebner unexpectedly. He 
met Login’s angry eyes defiantly. 

“ See here,” began Login ; but ceased abruptly. Over his 
face came an expression of curious alertness. He nodded 
his head at the crouching girl. 

“ What’s the matter with Pete’s girl ? ” 

Jean made no answer. Her head was strained forward 
in the attitude of listening. Her hands clasped and un- 
clasped against her bosom. 

And then Login, too, heard. For a second of time he 
stood as if petrified, his head held sideways to catch the in- 
distinct sound of man’s voice singing outside the hut. Then 
he sprang to the doorway and flattened his big body against 
the wall. 

“ Hell . . . Get the other side, Gus. Quick ! ” 

Jean was erect, her eyes blazing. Her voice rang through 
the confined space in a passionate call : 

“ Pete . . . Oh! . . . Pete!” 

On the instant, it seemed, the singing ceased. There fol- 
lowed a moment of absolute stillness, as if the man with- 
out were holding amazed interrogation of his sanity. 

Once again the girl’s voice rose in a shrill scream of warn- 
ing — the jungle cry of mate to mate in the presence of a 
danger too terrible to endure. 

“ Pete . . . the door ! Be careful of the door, Pete ! ” 

Upon the last throbbing echoes of the words came the 
impact of a heavy body hurled against the lower panel of 
the door. Through the splintered boards shot Pete Dia- 
mond, his hands raised to ward off the danger he sensed but 
could not yet see. So tremendous was the entry that the 
men crouched on either side were taken unawares. Login’s 
long arms, raised murderously, came down a thought too 
late. The head of the charging cattleman caught him just 
above the thigh and the three men went to the floor in a 
fury of threshing limbs. With an effort Pete freed himself 
and stood upright. His right fist, swung blindly as he rose, 
caught Rebner on the angle of the jaw. The man went 


TIMBER WOLVES 


285 

down again and lay quivering. At the same instant Lo- 
gin’s hands gripped Pete by the neck. Locked breast to 
breast the two men reeled across the hut. 

Into the brain of the cattleman came a curious buzzing. 
The terrible grip of those simian hands on his throat seemed 
to tighten with each second. Tiny specks of light came in 
front of his eyes, and his chest seemed on the point of 
bursting. Desperately he pushed his free arm upwards be- 
tween the curved wrists of his opponent. The flat of his 
hand took Login under the base of the chin, forcing his head 
back on his shoulders. With savage joy Pete felt the 
grating of the neck bones as he paused upwards with all 
his force. Login’s clutching hands loosened for an instant 
in a spasm of agony. And next instant they collided with 
the board table, tossing it this way and that, smashing it 
literally to fragments beneath their writhing bodies. 

The jar of impact as they went down tore loose Login’s 
hold. They rose together, the hands of each going out for a 
fresh strangle grip. In that single moment as he came 
upright Pete caught his first glimpse of the girl whose pres- 
ence in that place constituted the greatest of all the prob- 
lems that beat upon his mind. At sight of her white face 
and terrified eyes there settled upon him a cold, merciless 
desire, a kind of abnormal longing to still forever the abom- 
inable activities of this man before him. Massing his 
strength for the effort Pete drove his first into Login’s 
snarling face with all the weight of his body behind the 
blow. He saw Login wince ; heard his animal-like grunt as 
the blow went home. Again and again he struck. His 
quick caution forgotten, he began to press forward. In that 
instant Login resorted to a trick. He dropped to his knees 
suddenly. His long arms, reaching out, caught Pete below 
the knees and swept him crashing to the floor. By a sheer 
miracle the cattleman fell sideways, his head just missing a 
jagged splinter of the broken table. 

Pete got to his feet tottering, a red mist swirling about 
his head. He could not see; but his hands, reaching out 
instinctively, encountered the thick flesh of his enemy’s 
neck. In a flash Pete’s fingers dug themselves in, the last 
ounce of his strength settling to the grip that had been used 
for his own undoing. Already exhausted Login could offer 
but poor resistance. The end came with almost startling 


286 


TIMBER WOLVES 


suddenness. Login’s face went purple, his eyes protruded; 
the threshing of his limbs weakened. He sagged down- 
wards to the floor in a grotesque heap. 

Automatically the tension of Pete’s fingers released. 
Yet as he crouched exhausted beside his beaten enemy there 
came into his brain a tiny thread of sound — insistent and 
terrible. Desperately he essayed understanding. And all 
at once he thrilled to consciousness of a new fear. As if 
from immeasurable distance came Jean Salter’s voice, 
screaming at him : 

“ Pete . . . behind you. Look ! behind you . . . Oh, 
quick ! ” 

By a tremendous effort he turned his head . . . and 
stayed thus, in a paralysis of inaction. Strive as he might 
his dulled senses would not respond to rouse his body to 
movement. He lay inert, a deathly sickness at his soul. 
Within a yard of him a naked blade in his hand — crawled 
Gus Rebner. The man’s face was horrible, a mere mask of 
blood where the stamping heels of the fighting men had 
trampled him as he lay. He rose unsteadily to his feet and 
lifted his knife for the blow. Utterly helpless Pete closed 
his eyes. And then came suddenly a dull thud and the 
sound as of glass splintering on the floor beside him. When 
next he opened his eyes it was to find Jean’s hair sweeping 
his face, to feel her hands tugging at him in an agony of 
impatience. 

“Pete . . . have they hurt you? Quick, boy. We must 
go, Login is coming round.” 

The cattleman rose groggily to his feet. 

“ Jeannie, why did you stay? Why didn’t you get clear 
while you had the chance? Tack’s tied up jess outside. 
You should have taken him and lit out for home. Lord! 
. . . who did that to Gus Rebner?” 

Jean shuddered as her eyes fell on the crumpled body at 
their feet. 

“ I did. I had to. In another moment he would have 
killed you. I saw it in his eyes. He was mad. Before I 
knew what I was doing I had picked up a bottle and hit him 
on the head. It was horrible. Boy ... is he hurt? Is 
he dead?” 

Pete’s strength was rapidly returning. He knelt a mo- 
ment by the side of Rebner. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


287 


“Dead? Not he! He’s got a skull like a bullock.” Of 
a sudden his face darkened with fresh rage. His black eyes 
snapped. “ Jeannie, I ain’t heard yet what brought you 
here. They’s been some trickery somewhere. I’m going to 
find out. I’m going to choke the truth out of Login. And 
if they’ve hurt even a hair of your head I’m going to kill 
the two of them.” 

He swung round, but Jean caught his arm. 

“ Don’t, Pete. They never harmed me. See . . . you 
came in time. It was Peggy they meant to trick. They 
sent word to her that her father was here — and ill. She 
was ill herself. She couldn’t come. Thank God for that ! 
And so I came. And they wouldn’t let me go.” 

For a brief second she clung to him passionately. 

“ Oh, Pete ! Thank God you came when you did. 
Quick! let us leave this place. I never want to see it 
again.” 

Outside the hut the moonlight flooded the ridge in a tide 
of silver radiance. As Pete helped Jean into the saddle he 
looked up at her adoringly. 

“ It was you that saved us both, Jeannie . . . Jeannie ; 
first my soul, and now my body. God’s angels couldn’t do 
more. But that’s what you are. Just one of God’s angels.” 

Jean laughed unsteadily. 

“Silly boy. Could an angel be afraid? And I was 
abominably — terrifyingly afraid. See how I tremble yet.” 

“ You haven’t even asked me how I came to be here on 
The Ridge,” said Pete. “ You must know now what that 
place is.” 

“ I do. Those bottles and barrels can mean only one 
thing. It’s from here the tramline gets its sly grog. It is 
Login and Rebner that supply the men with drink.” 

“ And what about me ? ” asked Pete slowly. 

“You?” exclaimed Jean. “Why, do you think I could 
for one minute connect you with such a vile business? You 
had nothing to do with that part of it.” 

Pete looked back at her proudly. 

“Good girl! You’re as right as right can be. Jeannie, 
that hut was where we stored and packed our skins. This 
other thing was run between those two back there and Hen- 
nessy. I’ve known about it, of course ; but that’s all. I came 
back to-night to see they was none of my traps left around. 


288 


TIMBER WOLVES 


I thought they was no one there. Well, now Em quit of 
all of them. The season’s done. I ain’t skin-running any 
more. They’s no need now for you to worry. I’m keep- 
ing my two hands clean and watching out for that dream 
farm of ours. Jeannie ... I give you warning I ain’t 
going to wait much longer.” 

He stepped closer to the side of the moving horse, one 
hand resting on the pommel of the saddle. In silence they 
began to descend the gully slope. 


CHAPTER XX 


I N the sultry shelter of a tent pitched to one corner of 
the stack-yard Heritage was making a final check of 
the contents of the stacks. The result of his calcula- 
tions more than satisfied him. Taking into account the ma- 
terial still waiting haulage from the stump, his figures 
showed that they had close on 75,000 first quality staves 
waiting transport over the Government line. 

Having determined this much Heritage rose to his feet 
with a yawn. As a result of dry weather attended by a 
succession of easterly winds, he was feeling enervated and 
even irritable. Lighting his pipe he presently reseated him- 
self ; shoving his chair back so that his gaze wandered out 
across the yards to the funnel of open country which ran 
between the two lines of green scrub converging on the 
north bank of Bat River. The river itself was not in sight, 
yet Heritage could easily trace its course from the deeper 
coloring and lower elevation of the paper-bark swamps that 
hugged the running water. Beyond these a gap in the tall 
timber carried the view uninterruptedly to the line of hills 
which showed indistinctly through the haze which wrapt the 
highlands. Immediately to the left showed the high ser- 
rated summit of Elbow Ridge. 

Thought of the place made Heritage frown uneasily. 
Pete had told him a little of what had occurred that night 
he found Jean on Elbow Ridge, and Heritage was still try- 
ing to reconcile the happening with his preconceived notions 
of existing conditions. Used though he was becoming to 
the lawlessness of a section of the community dwelling on 
The Bend, the afifair at Elbow Ridge filled him with a sort 
of angry amazement. In his heart was a great thankful- 
ness that Peggy Adaire had escaped an experience which 
must have terrified her beyond expression; might, indeed, 
have wrought lasting evil upon her. Jean Salter, despite 
her almost masculine courage, had been shocked to the 
verge of illness for days following the experience. 

From this thought it was a natural transition to the mys- 
tery of Adaire’s disappearance. Heritage was unable any 

289 


290 


TIMBER WOLVES 


longer to resist the impression that the old man was in some 
way connected with Barkley, the man he had come to find ; 
if, indeed, he were not Barkley himself. Yet what reason 
could Adaire have for thus consistently hiding his identity. 
Failure to answer this question in his own mind was the one 
thing that constrained Heritage to silence. Short of a bald 
accusation there was nothing he could do to arrive at the 
truth ; unless, by a miracle, he might discover the author of 
the note pinned to his tent on the night of Adaire’s depart- 
ure. 

Heritage felt in his pockets and presently found Col- 
vin’s latest letter. This he re-read carefully. Among other 
things the old lawyer informed him of an intention to adver- 
tise immediately for news of Barkley. 

“ You’ve had a fair trial as an amateur sleuth,” wrote 
Colvin satirically. “ You may be progressing well enough 
in this timber business (indeed, I hope so), but as regards 
the discovery of Peter Philip Barkley you appear to be ex- 
actly where you were on the day you sailed from Melbourne 
with a copy of Sherlock Holmes in your bag. I think your 
reticence has been the chief mistake. Country folk are 
prone to unreasonable suspicions. Had you been less mys- 
terious concerning the exact nature of your mission, by this 
time you would in all probability have something definite to 
tell me. I consider the time ripe for a little publicity of the 
right kind.” 

Heritage had an uncomfortable feeling that his friend’s 
good-humored censure was partly justified. He was not 
sorry that Colvin had decided to take a hand in the matter. 
Timber Bend should have its curiosity satisfied at last. 
Heritage reflected comfortably that he would get in ahead 
of Colvin there, at any rate. He was due at Salter’s for 
dinner at mid-day. He decided to take his friends fully into 
his confidence without further delay. 

As he passed by the watchman’s hut on his way to the 
plains Solium called to him from the doorway. 

“ Did you hear they’s been a man sawn up along over at 
Frame’s mill?” inquired the litle man shrilly. “He got 
caught in the belting somehow. They’ve sent down for the 
doctor from Sun Port.” 

“ Who was it ? ” asked Heritage, with a sudden sicken- 
ing in his stomach. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


291 


Solium shook his head. 

“ I ain’t heard. George jess told me that much tidying 
up before he left for Salter’s. He sort of promised Charley 
he’d see to the harness and things now and again. He’ll 
be staying overnight where he is.” 

“ Who will ? George, you mean ? ” 

“ Charley Salter. If you’re going along to the farm you 
might let the folks know that Pete and the Boss have gone 
along to find a winter tract out from the lagoons.” 

“ All right,” said Heritage, stepping out on his journey. 
The mention of Pete Diamond just then brought him a feel- 
ing of depression. Heritage had a warm regard for the 
cattleman; the thought that others were not so favorably 
disposed troubled him a good deal. By now he had learnt 
something of Pete’s past history. He knew that, as Solium 
had once expressed it, “ Pete’s in wrong with the police. 
They got their claws into him. And he’s mighty foolish 
mixing himself with folks like Login and Rebner on a side 
deal. They’ll go back on him sure as eggs is eggs. I reckon 
they’re jess waiting the chance to play him dirt. And then, 
by gosh, won’t they come a healthy old mix-up. Fancy Pete 
being made to do time.” 

But this was just what Heritage could not do. His 
imagination fell short of such a contingency. Pete . . . 
with his big heart and boyish recklessness ... to go to 
gaol? The very idea was an absurdity. Pete would never 
stand it. Confinement would send him mad. Love for the 
open country over which he roamed at will was part of the 
big fellow’s religion. The scalloped plains ; the wide sweep 
of booming coastlands ; the steep of wind-swept knoll and 
twisting gully ridge; the warm shelter of turf-lined pockets 
deep down in the tea-tree and honeysuckle bush : these were 
his playground, his chosen home. To take him from them, 
to shut him out of sight within four walls beyond reach or 
comfort of the out-back where he belonged, would be to goad 
him to renunciation of that new life wherein his highest 
hopes dwelt. 

Heritage’s training as a lawyer had made him something 
of a psychologist. In vague fashion he was able to compre- 
hend that Pete would never submit to imprisonment. The 
cattleman was, in fact, a rough symbol of the proud free- 
dom of that sky-swept land whose green comeliness and 


292 


TIMBER WOLVES 


magical endurance had won his heart. In spite of the ele- 
ment of lawlessness in his make-up Pete was warm-hearted, 
staunch, and intensely likeable. That he might be led by 
reckless anger or unforeseen circumstance to denial of his 
present sober happiness was an ever present fear amongst 
his friends 

Heritage found Jean Salter and Peggy busy with their 
needles in the shade of the front veranda. He sat down 
on the floor with his back to the wall of the house, exclaim- 
ing thankfully at having found shelter at last from the 
muggy heat of the open. 

“ Mr. Jack Heritage, you make an admirable courier. 
The most important qualification for the position of post- 
man is the faculty of appearing immediately when called 
for. Peggy and I were just complaining that we had heard 
nothing of our joint affairs for ever so long. And now, 
hey presto ! here you are.” 

“ What’s left of me,” rejoined Heritage, mopping his face 
vigorously. He stole a quick glance at Peggy, wondering 
a little wistfully at the thinness of her face. Since the 
night of Adaire’s departure they had met more than once, 
but by tacit consent avoided any reference to what had 
passed between them. Outwardly, at all events, their rela- 
tions were as formerly. 

“And your mail-bag?” persisted Jean. 

“Why, I believe there’s nothing much in it after all. 
The stackyard is full to overflowing. On the whole, things 
are booming. Of course, we haven’t secured our trucks yet ; 
but we expect to shortly. By the way, there has been an 
accident at Garraway’s mill. One of his men got in the 
way of the breaking down saw. I don’t know any of the 
particulars.” 

“ Oh, the poor fellow,” exclaimed the girls in chorus. 

“ Who was he? ” added Jean quickly. 

Heritage shook his head. 

“ I don’t know. My information came from Solium. 
He asked me to let you know that your father will not be 
returning here until to-morrow. In all probability he and 
Pete will camp at the yards. Even if one or both decide to 
come on here after all, it is bound to be very late before 
they get in. They went to pick a track out from the la- 
goons. We shall have to lay about a mile of corduroy and 


TIMBER WOLVES 


293 


brush before we get anything like a passable track over that 
country.” 

“ You expect to be very busy then? ” asked Peggy quietly. 

“ Tremendously,” asserted the young man. He hesitated 
a little. “Any news yet of Mr. Adaire?” 

“ Not yet. He ... I think perhaps his business is tak- 
ing much longer than he thought. Of course he will be 
coming home any day now.” 

“ To be sure he will,” said Heritage, acting a heartiness 
he was far from feeling. To ease the quick ache at his 
heart he began to talk flippantly of his letter from Colvin. 

“ I come to claim your sympathy. I’ve been turned out 
of my job. Colvin — that’s my partner — has decided that 
my ability as a sleuth-hound is much over-rated. He com- 
plains ridiculously about my failure to produce results; 
quite forgetting the circumstances of the matter. In short, 
since Barkley is not forthcoming, Colvin proposes to invoke 
the aid of the newspapers.” 

“ His advertisement will need to give more detail than 
we have had so far, if it is to be of any use,” suggested Jean, 
with a touch of malice. 

Heritage laughed. 

“ I’ll try to make amends now. If I was a bit close over 
the exact nature of our business with friend Barkley, it was 
only because I did not want my time wasted with bogus 
claimants. Be it known then that Barkley is the fortunate 
inheritor of something like £500,000. There now! the cat 
is out of the bag. An old chap named Captain Moyes, who 
died about six months ago, is the donor.” 

Heritage was looking at Jean as he spoke, watching in 
idle admiration the dextrous movement of her slim fingers 
as they plied the needle about the piece of fancy work on 
her lap. Peggy’s quick gasp of surprise, the movement of 
her hands to her breast, escaped him. “And this is the 
man that declared he had no news for us ! ” exclaimed Jean. 
“ £508,000 ? My goodness, is there so much money in Aus- 
tralia? Barkley is a lucky man.” For a moment she was 
silent. “And yet is he? Money isn’t everything. And if 
Barkley is alive he must be an old, old man, surely. He 
mightn’t care now for money or money’s worth. But sup- 
posing he is dead? Or supposing you are unable to trace 
him?” 


294 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ In the first case his heirs (if there are any) will benefit. 
If we are unable to trace him at all the money goes to 
various charities.” 

“ A very sensible arrangement,” said Jean approvingly. 
“ Peg, what do you think ? ” 

“ I quite agree,” said Peggy in a low voice. For a fleet- 
ing instant her gray eyes met Heritage’s almost appealingly ; 
then she bent more closely over her work. “ I . . . think 
that would be the best use after all for such a lot of money. 
So many poor people would be glad of help.” 

“ Do you think the courts might be induced to consider 
your humble servant as coming within the category ? ” 
asked Heritage hopefully. 

“ Scarcely,” said Jean, her eyes twinkling. “ Besides, 
you know perfectly well that you don’t need the money. A 
fortunate investment in timber has disqualified you.” 

Heritage grinned and went off to hunt up George Judney. 
He spent most of the afternoon enjoying the quaint conver- 
sation of the lank hut-keeper, and attempting to digest 
incredible stories anent the redoubtable Bill Hardie. 

Long afterwards, when Heritage was able to look back 
calmly upon the events of that day, he marveled to remem- 
ber that his quiet enjoyment of the moment had been un- 
spoilt by any premonition of evil. Save for the shadow 
clouding his relations with Peggy Adaire, his spirits went 
unchecked. He felt no warning of those happenings which 
were so soon to place a lasting mark upon the lives of them 
all. 

Night fell with the air still hot and sultry. The wind, 
however, was beginning to rise in the tops of the timber. 
It came at irregular intervals, promising eventually to settle 
into a steady gale. Back on the veranda once more, in 
company of the two girls and Judney, Heritage sniffed the 
air in vain attempt to discover a hint of rain. As his eyes 
wandered out across the barely seen vista of plain before 
them he presently became aware of a white-clad figure ad- 
vancing from the direction of the tramline. He called the 
attention of the others. 

“ Some one is coming. Mr. Salter, I suppose ; or Pete.” 

Jean was on her feet peering into the dusk. 

“ It’s neither. It’s a woman. Why, I do believe it’s 
Sadie Williams.” She called softly: “ Is it you, Sadie? 


TIMBER WOLVES 


295 


We haven’t seen you for ages. Bad girl to desert your 
friends.” 

Sadie halted in the black shadow of the bushes by the 
veranda. Her voice came hesitatingly. 

“ I ain’t deserted you, Jean. I . . . you know we been 
pretty busy this last week or two. I thought I’d jess look 
in and see you all on my way back home from the line. No, 
I won’t go inside. I reckon if you don’t mind I’ll jess set 
awhile here on the boards and rest myself.” 

Judney’s rumbling tones broke in with a question. 

“ Been down at the mill, Sadie ? Who was the man that 
got hurt ? How’s he making out ? ” 

“ I think he was a new hand. His name was Sam Mat- 
thews,” said the red-haired girl. “ My, the poor fellow’s 
pretty chopped up, they say. The doctor was jess come up 
the line as I left. He’ll have to camp the night there, I 
reckon.” 

There fell a little silence. Heritage lay back in his chair, 
his eyes fixed dreamily on the red glow of Judney’s pipe. 
Opposite him showed faintly the white dresses of the three 
girls. 

“ I heard to-day that Frame was coming across,” said 
Sadie abruptly. 

Heritage sat upright, his sleepiness forgotten. 

“ Is he, by Jingo! Who told you that, Miss Williams? ” 

“ Login did. They were talking about it at the mill. 
Tom said Mr. Frame was angry about something.” 

The girl’s tones betrayed no embarrassment. It was 
plain she knew nothing of the affair at Elbow Ridge. 

Under cover of the dark Jean gave a little shudder of 
disgust. She asked quickly: 

“ You don’t know, of course, just when Frame is ex- 
pected ? ” 

“ They never said.” replied Sadie indifferently. 

A second time silence fell upon the little group. Pres- 
ently Sadie rose to her feet with a sigh. 

“ I’ll be getting along home. I ... jess called in to see 
you again. It gets kind of lonely down there at the ferry. 
Dad ain’t no company.” 

Peggy began to protest. 

“ Why, you’ve only just come. Jean, try and persuade 
her to stop and have some supper.” 


296 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ But I ain’t a mite hungry,” said the red-haired girl in- 
distinctly. She seemed to peer at them through the gloom. 
Into her voice crept a wistful note. “ We’re friends, 
Jeannie, ain’t we? You don’t mind me dropping in like 
this to see you? I ain’t any girls to talk to but only you 
and Peggy.” 

“ Goodness me, child ; what a thing to ask,” exclaimed 
Jean wonderingly. The strangeness of the question troubled 
her. “ Why, we’re the best of friends, and always shall be. 
How absurd of you.” 

She stood up and patted her dress into shape. 

“ I feel that a walk will do me good. I’m going with you 
part of your way home. George will come and look after 
us. And Peggy and Mr. Heritage can stop with mother. 
Now you two, see that you don’t quarrel while we’re away. 
Sadie, don’t try to stop me. I tell you my mind is made 
up.” 

At the gate Judney asked: “ What way was you going 
home, Sadie?” 

u Round by Berrigan’s Gum,” said the girl slowly. 

The hut-keeper lifted his eyes to the dark mass of the 
timber looming ahead. “ Why that way ? ” 

“ Because it’s shorter, and I reckon I’m tired,” answered 
Sadie, almost irritably. 

“ Well, I suppose it don’t matter,” grumbled Judney ; but 
his voice was a little anxious. The wind was rising stead- 
ily. From the depths of a gully on their right came the hol- 
low boom of a snapping tree trunk and the quick echo of 
falling limbs. “ Once you get round the head of Gray La- 
goon they ain’t much big timber to speak of. I’d watch out, 
all the same. This wind’s pretty high.” 

“ I ain’t frightened,” said Sadie simply. 

Abreast of the Lagoon she halted suddenly. 

“ Jean, you ain’t to come any further. I shall be quite 
all right now. Three miles of a walk ain’t anything to me.” 

“ We’ll keep on as far as Berrigan’s Gum,” declared Jean. 
She went to move on but Sadie caught her by the arm. 

“ No,” said the girl sharply. Almost at once she stepped 
back as if confused. “ Jeannie, I didn’t mean to speak rude. 
Only you ain’t to come any further. I ... I’d sooner you 
didn’t. I can find my way first-rate.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


297 


“ Well, of all the unsociable creatures,” laughed Jean. 
She bent her face coaxingly towards Sadie. “ Now, dear, 
don’t be cross. To-night I’m in one of my obstinate moods. 
We simply can’t leave you until we see you clear of the 
timber.” 

The red-haired girl was obdurate. 

“ Please, Jeannie. I’d sooner you didn’t. And anyhow 
it don’t seem right to drag you all this way. You must be 
tired already.” 

“Tired? Why, I never felt more energetic in my life. 
It’s you that must be tired. You seem to have been tramp- 
ing all day. What a shame. Why doesn’t your father 
buy you a horse, Sadie? ” 

She put a hand on Sadie’s shoulder and kissed her 
quickly. 

“ Let me have my own way this time, dear. Me tired ? 
Come now and I’ll show you. I’ll race both of you to the 
big tree. I feel so wide awake to-night that I don’t think 
even Pete could catch me. One, two, three — off.” 

Not waiting a reply she darted down the track. For a 
second the sound of her flying feet came faintly back to 
them through the star-lit night, and then died away in the 
slough of the wind. 

Judney looked at the girl beside him. 

“ She’s a lively one, eh Sadie? She sort of reminds me 
of a young doe kangaroo, the way she goes tearing through 
the bush. I never knew her to be in better spirits. Maybe 
it’s because Pete and the dog are coming in from the bush 
for a spell. She ain’t seen Pete for more’n a week.” 

Sadie made no answer. Jean’s sudden departure seemed 
to have taken her by surprise. She seemed to be breath- 
ing a little hard and her footsteps had quickened. 

Judney touched her on the arm. 

“What’s wrong, Sadie? You ain’t vexed with Jean, are 
you? She didn’t mean nothing by it. She’s jess chockful 
of happiness to-night. We’ll find her waiting for us some- 
where ahead.” 

He broke off suddenly to exclaim “What was that?” 

Following a short lull in the wind had come three or four 
quick sounds not unlike the tapping of an axe on hollow 
wood. The hut-keeper paused in his stride. 


298 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Maybe it was a root snapping. And yet it wasn’t ex- 
actly like that. It’s blowing pretty hard, ain’t it? There 
it comes again.” 

This time their ears caught but a single sharp note. 
Scarcely had the sound of it died away than there burst 
upon their hearing a succession of loud cracks followed 
instantly by a slurring whine that rose swiftly to a cata- 
clysm of sound. 

Judney gripped Sadie by the elbow. 

“ God ! . . . Berrigan’s Gum ! The damned old tree is 
falling. Jeannie. . . 

His voice was lost in the harsh crash of the falling timber. 
For a minute the air was rent by a fury of discordant noise 
as the big tree, gathering momentum as it went, tore its way 
through a forest of branching limbs. Its huge girth struck 
the ground with a concussion that jarred the very earth 
under their feet. There followed a rain of splinters, and 
then silence. 

George Judney was already running down the track. He 
was shouting as he went. After him labored Sadie Williams, 
her hands clutching at her breast. As she stumbled onwards 
she began to call over and over again in a frightened whisper 
like the pitiful whimpering of a child: 

“ Jeannie . . . Jeannie . . . Jeannie.” 

There came to her straining ears no sound but the rush of 
wind overhead. The black shadow of the timber seemed to 
engulf her, sinking her yet deeper in the ocean of her fear. 
And then suddenly she stopped. On the track before her 
knelt Judney, his arms about a still figure in white. About 
them stretched a litter of fallen limbs, with jagged ends that 
stabbed the darkness, within a foot of their bodies. 

Sadie put a shaking hand on the hut-keeper’s shoulder. 
For a moment she could not articulate. 

“ Jeannie’s hurt. George . . . she ain’t . . . agoing to 
. . . die?” 

“ God knows,” said Judney hoarsely. He rose to his 
feet, the girl’s limp body in his arms. “ They was a limb 
crushing her chest. She’s breathing, but . . . Sadie, take 
her feet. We must get her home. Thank God, they’s the 
doctor down at the mill. We must find him right away — 
him and . . . Pete.” 

The red-haired girl seemed sunken in a stupor of grief. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


299 


Only as they went carefully up the track with their burden, 
her eyes seemed to search the darkness on either side almost 
as if she were expecting some one to emerge suddenly to their 
aid. 

Heritage was never to forget the horror of that night. He 
was chatting to Mrs. Salter and Peggy in the kitchen, when 
the door opened and Jean was carried in by a white-faced 
man and woman and laid gently down on the couch. Only 
when the unconscious girl had been taken to her own room 
and the agonized mother settled to watch by the bedside, 
did Heritage find time to realize the extent of his own grief. 

Judney had gone off again immediately to fetch the doctor. 
Heritage, having done what little he could to render assist- 
ance, returned to the kitchen to wait Judney’s return. 
With Peggy Adaire sobbing quietly beside him he sat in 
silence, his consciousness aghast at the calamity which had 
befallen them. At the opposite end of the room Sadie 
Williams was huddled on the sofa, her hands to her face. 
She sat there stupidly ; uttering no word. 

The clock on the dresser ticked on slowly, each moment 
seeming an eternity of time. From Jean’s room came no 
sound. The house appeared sunken in a kind of despairing 
silence. Once Heritage rose and tip-toed to the back door, 
where he looked anxiously into the night. But no sound of 
voices reached his ears. He heard only the slam of the wind 
and the far-off booming of the sea. 

He was about to rise for the second time when Peggy 
touched his hand. 

“ Pete ! ” she whispered. 

Even as she spoke came the thud of feet on the veranda 
boards. The door swung inwards to reveal the cattleman. 
The big fellow began to speak immediately. 

“ I thought that job would keep me forever. It was so 
late when we got to the yards that Charley reckoned to camp 
there and come on in the morning. Well, Jack; what’s the 
news? I reckon. . . .” 

He broke off, his eyes traveling round the room. On the 
sofa Sadie had not moved ; only, at the sound of Pete’s 
voice, a little shudder seemed to move her body. The tears 
were streaming down Peggy’s face. Heritage had risen to 
his feet. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. 

Pete looked directly at him. 


300 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ They’s something wrong,” said the cattleman, slowly. 
All at once an expression of almost terror leapt into his eyes. 
He took a step forward into the room. 

“Where’s Jean?” he asked stridently. 

For all his vast pity Heritage could not bring himself to 
meet his friend’s look. He began to stammer. 

“ Pete . . . Pete . . .” 

In a single stride the big fellow reached him. He took 
Heritage by the shoulders in a grip that hurt. His black 
eyes were blazing. 

“ Where is she ? What have you done to her ? God 
Almighty, will none of you speak ? ” 

He shook Heritage till the young man’s teeth rattled. 
Almost choking he gasped out : 

“Pete . . . old man; don’t. Jean’s hurt. Berrigan’s 
Gum came down and she was struck on the chest by a limb. 
George has gone to Garraway’s mill for the doctor. Jean 
is in her room there with her mother. Pete . . . for God’s 
sake, don’t look like that ! ” 

Without a word Pete released his hold. As in a dream 
Heritage saw him reach for the handle of Jean’s door. They 
heard his heavy tread across the floor and the broken murmur 
of Mrs. Salter’s voice. And then silence once more. 

While Heritage waited, his arm about Peggy’s bent shoul- 
ders, there rose upon the quiet of the house such a cry of 
agony as the young man prayed he might never again hear 
from human lips. In a panic lest it should be repeated he 
drew Peggy gently to her feet. 

“ Peggy . . . come away . . . anywhere into the open. 
We can do nothing — we can know nothing until the doc- 
tor comes. Let’s keep on hoping. Good God, what a 
tragedy ! ” 

He paused at the door to look back inquiringly at Sadie, 
but the girl looked up and shook her head. She continued 
upon the sofa, half lying and half sitting ; her large-knuckled 
hands pressed to her eyes. In that attitude she remained 
until the return of George Judney and the doctor. 

The latter was a man nearing middle age ; tall and stooping 
with little clusters of graying curls at the temples of his thin, 
high-cheeked face. The corners of his clean-shaven mouth 
drooped slightly. He seemed infinitely weary. 

Judney pointed to Jean’s room. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


301 


“ Go right in, doctor. I reckon they’re expecting you. 
If ... if they’s anything I can do, you’ll tell me.” 

Pete made no sign as the doctor quietly entered the room. 
The cattleman sat motionless by the side of the bed, his eyes 
riveted on the china-white face of the injured girl. With 
each feeble intake of her breath his body appeared to flinch 
in a sort of mechanical repetition, pitiful to see. Generous 
to a fault in all things else, concerning Jean Salter the big 
fellow was self-centered to an extraordinary degree. In the 
queer workings of his mind he had come to believe that this 
girl meant infinitely more to him than a relationship depen- 
dent upon sex alone. She was the living expression of the 
sum of all human benevolence he had ever known; the 
manifestation of every clean and beautiful thought he had 
ever pondered. He seemed now to be oblivious of anything 
but the horror of the moment. He cringed like a man afraid ; 
as one might who sees his own soul slipping into outer 
darkness, and himself powerless to save. When Mrs. Salter 
touched him he looked up at her vacantly. 

“ Pete, the doctor’s here,” whispered the poor woman. By 
the faint light of the candle, burning on the dressing-table 
beside her, she appeared astonishingly calm and resolute. 
Long since she had schooled herself to believe that hope for 
Jean there was none. There is a degree of suffering which, 
with some natures, defeats itself by its very intensity; 
inducing, as it were, a kind of mental anaesthesia. So it 
was with Mrs. Salter. At that moment her senses were 
numbed. The time was yet to come when her brave old 
heart would know to the full of its anguish. 

The doctor was already bending over Jean. He went 
about his work in silence. When finally he desisted he 
looked up to meet Mrs. Salter’s eyes. 

“ Well?” asked the old lady collectedly. 

With his hands the doctor made a slight gesture of help- 
lessness. These people here were strangers Jo him. Until 
that night he had never even heard of them ; it was probable 
that when he went away he would meet them no more. But 
he would have been less than human had his feelings not 
responded in some measure to the tragedy of what was taking 
place. 

“ What can I say ? It’s useless to attempt to deceive you. 
And a lie could do no good any way. It may seem cruel, but 


302 


TIMBER WOLVES 


in matters of this sort it is surely best to face the truth. I 
am more sorry than I can tell you, but ... I can hold 
out no hope. Even if it were possible to operate the chance 
of recovery could only be one in a thousand. As it is . . . ? ” 

The silence was broken by Pete. He stood upright, facing 
the doctor across the bed. In his haggard face was so great 
an expression of suffering that the doctor’s heart contracted 
in unaccustomed pity. 

“ Do you mean that Jeannie is going to . . . die?” the 
cattleman whispered. 

The doctor nodded — not trusting himself to speak. He 
looked down at Jean regretfully, wondering at the strange 
peacefulness of the white face. 

At that moment Pete’s hand shot out and caught his 
wrist in a grip of iron. The big fellow’s face blazed with 
the madness of utter despair. He pulled the doctor towards 
him so that their heads almost touched over the still form on 
the bed between them. 

“ You liar .. . . Oh, you damned liar ! ” he cried tensely. 
“Jeannie to die? You don’t know what you’re saying. A 
thing like that ain’t possible. God would never let her die.” 

For a second he seemed on the point of choking. His 
mouth twisted in agony. He raised his free hand with a 
threatening gesture. 

“And you? Damn you, what good are you? To stand 
there and say a thing like that? Ain’t they nothing you 
can do? Why . . . why ... if Jeannie dies, by God, so 
shall you! Do you hear that? I’ll strangle you with my 
two hands ! ” 

The doctor was no coward. Also he had an unusual 
understanding of human nature. His tired eyes met those 
of the madman steadily enough. 

# “ My friend, do so by all means, if it will bring her back to 
life. But you know that it can’t. God knows there is 
nothing I would not do to save this poor girl for those that 
love her.” 

He waited a moment; then added quietly: “ You are hurt- 
ing my arm.” 

The appeal passed unnoticed. Pete was whispering as if 
to himself. “ It ain’t possible ... it ain’t possible. Jeannie 
to die? To leave me here ... ?” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


303 

“ Please let go my wrist,” said the doctor once more. He 
spoke softly, as one speaks to a fractious child. 

This time the cattleman obeyed. Of a sudden he seemed 
to get a grip of his sanity. The fury faded from his eyes; 
his body ceased its shaking. 

“ God help you all,” said the doctor abruptly. 

. “ They ain’t any God,” said Pete. He put his hands to 
his temples. “ If Jean dies then they ain’t any God. If 
they was, do you think He could do a thing like this? To 
take her away from me . . . without a sign, without even 
a word to help keep me back from the hell I’m going to. 
No, they ain’t a God any more ! ” 

He dropped on his knees by the bed. Like those of a blind 
man his hands groped their way over the pillows until they 
found the thick mass of the dying girl’s hair, twining it 
about his fingers, fondling the tawny curls in an ecstasy of 
grief. 

“ Jeannie . . . Jeannie . . . ain’t you even going to say 
good-by ? ” 

Afterwards the doctor could never quite explain to himself 
the wonder of what followed. In his heart he believed that 
the girl was already far beyond the reach of any earthly 
appeal. Yet at sound of that anguished cry her evelids 
quivered suddenly. As if the despairing tones of Pete’s 
voice had power to cleave the mists of death and call the 
fleeting spirit back to earth, Jean’s bosom rose in a long 
sighing breath. Her eyes opened and rested for a brief 
instant upon the graven face of the man who called her name 
brokenly. A smile — fleeting, transient, flickered on her 
mouth. By a supreme effort she moved her hands feebly 
upwards, as if trying to convey some last message which it 
was bevond power of her lips to frame. 

To Pete the action translated itself instantly. How many 
times, in all the glory of her trusting, buoyant youth, had 
those fluttering hands prefaced her never wearied cry: 
“ Clean hands, Boy ; always clean hands. Pete, promise 
me!” 

He buried his face on the pillows. 

With a hesitating glance at Mrs. Salter, who sat dry-eyed 
and still, the doctor went softly from the room. For a 
moment he leant against the kitchen mantelpiece, his head 


304 


TIMBER WOLVES 


on his arms. George Judney ’s voice recalled him to him- 
self. 

“ Doc, I can see it ain’t any good hoping. Am I right ? ” 

The doctor nodded silently. 

“ See now, how queer the Almighty seems to do things,” 
said the old hut-keeper huskily, after a little silence. “If it 
was me now, or one of the other folks, that was took, I reckon 
nobody should have bothered much. I’m old. I’ve had my 
time. And maybe life ain’t so hard to leave, after all, 
when they’s none of your own left behind to grieve. But 
Jean ... ?” 

The doctor was not listening. He appeared aware for the 
first time of the presence of Sadie Williams. Now he was 
looking at her intently. The red-haired girl had slipped to 
the floor. She began to moan softly. 

Something in her attitude roused the doctor’s professional 
instinct. He moved quickly to the girl’s side, but turned 
back to Judney almost instantly. In his voice was a sort 
of tired amazement. 

“ Good God ! . . . what’s this ! Where is this woman’s 
husband? ” 

Judney looked at him in blank surprise. 

“ Her what?” 

“ I asked you where this girl’s husband was. He should 
be sent for.” 

Judney plucked at his beard with a shaking hand. 

“ Why, I reckon she ain’t got any husband,” he said 
slowly. “ That’s . . . jess Sadie Williams.” 

The eyes of the two men met in a long look. 

“ Help me lift her to a bed somewhere,” said the doctor, 
wearily. “ And then call that old lady yonder. There’s 
work here for all of us, and maybe it will help to take her 
mind away from her own grief for a little time.” 

In stupefied silence the hut-keeper complied. 


CHAPTER XXI 


F OLLOWING the inquest and the final laying to rest 
of Jean Salter in the tiny cemetery at the head of 
Gray Lagoon, work at Salter’s camp became tem- 
porarily disorganized. Of those concerned Salter himself 
seemed, for a time, least capable of recovering his balance. 
The stout man wandered aimlessly about his farm ; his cheeks 
strangely shrunken, and his manner absent and hesitating. 
When spoken to he replied in monosyllables, seeming to 
shun companionship of any kind. By degrees, however, the 
mood passed. One day he made his appearance at the camp 
where Heritage was doing his best to direct operations dur- 
ing the absence of both his partners, and astonished the 
young man by taking hold again as if nothing had happened. 

Of Pete’s whereabouts Heritage could only guess. The 
cattleman had disappeared early upon the morning of Jean 
Salter’s death. With his dog loping beside him he rode 
away across the gray plains that stretched to meet the dawn ; 
nor had there been a man there with courage enough to 
question his going. A little later the doctor, too, had de- 
parted, leaving the house in somber silence save for the quiet 
feet of the two women who tended Sadie Williams. Heri- 
tage and Judney had gone to find Charley Salter. 

A week after the inquest Heritage received a curt note 
from the railway management to the effect that trucks were 
at last available. Under normal conditions Salter would 
have greeted the news with childish jubilation. Now he 
was almost apathetic. 

“ We’ll go right ahead and lick Frame and Garraway, 
anyhow,” he said. “ After that . . . well, I ain’t caring 
too much what turns up. You know, Jack, I’d like things 
to turn up trumps jess for you and the Adaires. I reckon 
the rest of us can dodge along like we been used to. They’s 
. . . they’s things that money can’t buy.” 

The ache in the stout man’s voice hurt Heritage. He made 
haste to change the subject. 

“ I suppose we’ll have to go along to the Green Valley 
depot and make arrangements to get our trucks through to 

305 


3°6 


TIMBER WOLVES 


the twenty-mile. If only Pete would come back he and I 
could go along together. What with Mr. Adaire still away 
and Strangways laid up with rheumatism we’re about as 
short-handed as I want to see. Still, we’re not doing badly.” 

For a moment Salter was silent. 

“ In one way we are,” he said presently. “ I think we’ll 
come out on top in the long run, but already we’ve paid a 
price we never dreamt of. I ain’t thinking of ... of Jean 
now. That must have happened, I suppose, no matter what 
we were at. It was jess fate. What I meant was that 
this timber business is a fake from start to finish. It’s 
broke up things as they used to be; it’s changed us all, in 
more ways than one. There’s Peggy now — and her father. 
A fine old man is old Phil. But where is he? What’s he 
gone for? Why ain’t we heard of him? And Peggy there 
eating her heart out. They’s something fishy about the 
whole business. I don’t like it.” 

“ Nor do I,” admitted Heritage. “ We can only hope for 
the best.” 

The stout man looked at him with bitter eyes. 

“ Eh, that’s the word, ain’t it ? ” he said. “ As you say, 
we can jess hope. Oh, it’s a great word. They’s Jeannie 
gone — and Pete . . . God knows where Pete is ! But we’ll 
keep on hoping. And they’s the old mother and Peggy 
back there at the house eating their hearts out in sorrow 
that’s none of their own making. And that poor girl Sadie 
half crazed. . . . But we’ll keep on hoping; though what 
they can be to hope for I don’t know. They’s nothing worse 
can happen any of us.” 

In the act of turning away he stopped and laid a hand on 
the young man’s arm. 

“Jack, I wasn’t sneering at you jess then. You ain’t to 
think that. I know all this has hurt you pretty near as much 
as it has the rest of us. And I suppose after all it ain’t any 
use my kicking. I mustn’t be a quitter. Jeannie wouldn’t 
like that. She’s expecting us to go right on and beat up these 
timber wolves. I tell you I know it. And so we will. But 
they’s bad times ahead. Listen now, what’s those two plain- 
clothes police doing loafing around The Bend? Who sent 
for them? What are they after? ” 

“You mean the men George Judney told us about?” 
asked Heritage, startled. “ I never knew they were police.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


307 


“Well, you know it now,” said Salter soberly. “Don’t 
tell any of your business when them fellows are around. 
And keep Pete’s name off your tongue. I don’t know any- 
thing, but I’m guessing a whole lot these days.” 

Heritage had small opportunity to speculate on the stout 
man’s meaning. The work called unceasingly. In the ab- 
sence of Steve Strangways he took charge of the gang on 
the. Lagoon block, where some valuable figured trees lay 
waiting haulage before the advent of the wet season. The 
reason for Salter’s evident anxiety to handle these was not 
at once apparent. The fine weather showed no sign of 
breaking. The bush was bone dry. The monotony of hot, 
muggy days went unrelieved saving for an occasional wind- 
storm which, however, always failed in its promise of rain. 

Towards noon of his third day in the bush Heritage got 
word that a man was waiting to see him outside the stackyard 
boundary. The request was urgent and he complied at once. 
A little later he found himself shaking Pete’s hand and 
stammering his delight at seeing the big fellow safe and 
sound. 

“ Pete . . . Pete. Why, this is great. We ... I was 
afraid . . . you see, I didn’t know. . . .” 

The cattleman smiled gravely. 

“ I didn’t know either, Jack, for quite a time. But I 
believe I can hold myself now. Them first few days I near 
went mad. I think I should have, only for getting away on 
my own like I done. It was Jeannie that taught me that 
trick, too. She used to say she could always fight trouble 
better away out on the plains by herself than she could 
cooped up inside of four walls, in company of folks that 
mightn’t understand. I reckon that holds true with most 
of us.” 

Heritage looked up from smoothing Pup’s shining coat. 

“ We’ll be mighty glad to have you back with us, Pete. 
It’s been pretty miserable lately. Seen any of the others 
yet ? ” 

“ I slept at Salter’s place last night. Eh, now you’ll 
wonder how I could do that — and in Jeannie’s old room 
too ! I had a fancy that way. I kind of thought she’d more 
easy come to me there in my sleep. I reckon I was wrong.” 

“You didn’t dream of her then?” said Heritage. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” explained the cattleman simply. “I 


3°8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


ain’t slept through a full night since . . . well, you know. 
We won’t talk of that. Listen! . . . that old lady, Salter, 
is a woman in a thousand. She must be suffering hell, but 
you couldn’t guess that by looking at her. She’s that kind 
and gentle in her ways . . . tending to Sadie Williams. 
Jack, what’s the matter with our bit of the world? Jess a 
bit of a girl like that ... it ain’t hardly believable. And 
she don’t say a word.” 

“ I know,” said Heritage, in a low voice. 

This was tragedy of another sort, and no less inexplicable. 
The whole happening was so sordid, so utterly useless; yet 
he knew that, after all, such things were an integral part of 
life, were as intimately mixed in the woof and warp of exist- 
ence as any act of saintly martyrdom. And this in the teeth 
of the purists. 

He said presently, “ Pete, I hear that the old man has 
thrown her off. Just fancy. The old pig! ” 

“ Is that so,” said Pete, with a queer intonation. He was 
silent a moment, gazing out across the wide sweep of wilting 
bush that curved like the horns of a ram to encircle the space 
of the stockyards. Between the points of the horns showed 
a narrow strip of track that lost itself quickly in the thick 
button-grass of the plains beyond. Right ahead hung the 
penciled outline of the hills, their steely glitter of slope and 
summit streaked with long lines of purple shadow where the 
highlands split to the cool, fragrant, depths of innumerable 
gully beds. 

Heritage seized the opportunity to furtively study his 
friend’s appearance. Pete was certainly thinner, but his 
body appeared to have lost nothing of its alert, sinewy 
strength. His face alone remained a melancholy index to 
the mental struggle through which he had passed. The 
brilliant black eyes were sunken in their sockets, the nostrils 
were curiously pinched, the cheekbones appeared higher. 
There was added a tightening — a clamping together, as it 
might be — of the big, stubborn jaws that seemed to hint at 
tremendous self-repression. 

“Is that so?” said Pete again. He looked Heritage full 
in the face. “ Jack, I’ve heard folks say that we’d all ought 
to be good because God meant us to be so, because it’s natural 
to be good. What a silly thing to say? It’s natural for us 
to be bad — damned bad. But they’s some folks make up 


TIMBER WOLVES 


309 


for the rest of us. Listen now, till I tell you something. 
Sadie ain’t ever going back to the ferry house. Mrs. Salter 
and Charley aim to keep the girl with them for always. Now 
that . . . that Jeannie’s been took, the old folk sort of 
want some one to fill the gap in the home. That’s the kind 
of woman Mrs. Salter is. Can you beat it? It takes the 
poor to help the poor. She’s going to take and tend that poor 
girl like she was her own flesh and blood. Sadie’s gone as 
far down into the pit as she’ll ever go. Now she’s going on 
and up as far as God’ll let her.” 

“ What does she say to the arrangement ? ” asked Heritage. 

“ Why, at first she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want it 
to be that way. She kept calling out that she wasn’t good 
enough, that she was only fit to die. And the old lady jess 
sat there patting her shoulder and talking kind and slow like. 
‘ We want you for our own sakes, as much as for yours,’ she 
says. ‘ We’re counting on you to help soothe the sore spot 
in our hearts, and I reckon you ain’t the girl to turn us down. 
You’re just the one our own girl would have picked for us if 
she could have seen how things was going to turn out. 
You’ll stay with me and Charley, won’t you?’ she says. 
* You know what I am,’ says Sadie. But the old lady 
wouldn’t listen to that talk. ‘ I know what you’re going to 
be,’ she says. ‘ And Jean loved you.’ ‘ Do you think she 
did ? ’ says Sadie. And then she begins crying. * I’d have 
died for Jeannie any day,’ she says. * If you want me I’ll 
stay with you . . . and thank God on my knees for the 
chance He’s giving me. Why, she kissed me. She must 
have cared or she couldn’t have done that. I tell you she 
kissed me that night,’ she says.” 

The cattleman sighed. 

“ Jack, I think maybe she was talking of Jeannie then, but 
I don’t rightly know. She wouldn’t say another word.” 

“ Well, I’m glad Sadie will find a home with such grand 
people,” said Heritage, a little huskily. “ And what of you, 
Pete ? Are you coming back to camp now ? ” 

“ No,” said Pete. He pointed to the horses tethered to the 
yard rails. “ They’s something to do first. That’s why I 
sent along for you. I’m going to take and show you . . . 
well, you’ll see for yourself presently. You can ride Tack. 
Let’s get along.” 

Without another word of explanation he climbed into his 


3io 


TIMBER WOLVES 


saddle and led the way over the plain. At the end of twenty 
minutes Pete turned towards Gray Lagoon. At first Heritage 
thought the big fellow was taking him to the cemetery where 
Jean Salter lay, but they kept straight on past the turn-off. 
And then Heritage suddenly rounded an arm of the bush and 
found Pete dismounted and waiting for him by the side of 
Berrigan’s Gum. 

The big tree lay as it had fallen, its girth almost blocking 
the narrow track with a breast-high barrier of seamed and 
splintered deadwood. Part of it had been driven deeply 
into the soft ground, so that the gray, lichen-covered surface 
appeared as some huge saurian stretched belly-deep amid the 
ferns and rubbish of the fore-shore. The head of the tree 
had lodged against the rock wall of a hillock abutting the 
track. The limbs here and there smashed bodily in their 
descent and now presented a confused, impenetrable jumble 
of jagged ends and twisted barrels which covered the ground 
for yards around. 

Of the tree itself Pete took little notice. Grimly silent he 
led Heritage to the former pedestal of the fallen monarch. 

“ Have a good look round, Jack, and tell me what you see,” 
he suggested quietly. 

A good deal bewildered Heritage ran his eyes slowly over 
the ground at their feet. The scrutiny, however, brought 
him nothing of his friend’s meaning. He was forced to 
confess as much. 

“ I don’t get your idea. I see no more than one might 
expect to see under the circumstances. There is just the 
usual appearance of a big butt half torn, half lifted by the 
wind.” 

Pete gathered up a handful of the soil and passed it to the 
young man. 

“ Have a look at that then. And bear in mind that this 
tree — so far as you are supposed to know — fell of its own 
accord. They’s never been ax nor saw laid to it. The 
fires have hit it now and then, so you’ll find a little ash where 
the roots have run. What else have you got in your hand 
there ? ” 

“ Saw-dust,” said Heritage, after a moment’s inspection. 

“ Jess so! Now see here?” With his two hands the 
cattleman uncovered part of a big root whose edge showed 
above the surface of the ground. “ There’s where your 


TIMBER WOLVES 


3ii 

saw-dust come from, and there’s where your saw bit. For a 
wonder she didn’t lift clean off where she broke. The grain 
ran up, as you can see, and left part of the cut clear. What 
do you make of them black marks on the wood?” 

“ Wedge marks,” answered Heritage, this time without 
hesitation. Suddenly comprehending the drift of Pete’s 
remarks he looked at the big fellow in consternation. “ Why 
but the thing’s impossible — utterly impossible. I don’t 
deny the evidence of what you show me, but surely it’s 
absurd to suggest that this tree was fallen deliberately by 
some one while Jean was here. Think of the difficulty of 
such a theory. For example, how could it be possible to 
grub a tree of this size so exactly as to make its falling de- 
pendent on the removal of a couple of wedges? Besides, 
who would want to do such a devilish thing to Jean — or to 
any one else ? How could he know she would be there — 
and at that moment? We know ourselves that her going 
with Sadie that night was pure accident. Again, there was 
a fair wind blowing. Under the circumstances no man could 
count on the thing happening to order.” 

The cattleman brought his palms together with a smack. 

“ You’re wrong, Jack, all wrong. I tell you that Berri- 
gan’s Gum was fallen, like it is, on purpose. Bah, a thing 
like that would be child’s play to a man reared in the big 
timber, a man that knew his business as this man did. I 
could name you a dozen men on the coast here that could 
hang most any tree you like to point them out by a couple 
of splinters, and fall it when and where they liked. This 
tree? . . . they was only the two big roots at the back and 
the one in front that kept her in the air at any time. 
As for the wind, it was a cross wind. That’s the only stroke 
of luck this man had. It was a cross wind, and couldn’t 
count much anyhow. Them sounds George heard jess be- 
fore she came down, what d’you suppose they was? Frogs 
croaking in the swamp? I tell you they come when the 
wedges were knocked out and the last of the back stay cut. 
It was what George told me set me to thinking like this 
first.” 

Heritage was dumbfounded. 

“ But — whoever it was — how could he know Jean would 
be here? And why harm her, anyhow? She never had a 
real enemy on the coast. Was there any one that didn’t 


312 


TIMBER WOLVES 


know her to be one of the grandest girls ever lived? Why 
did he do it ? ” 

“ How the hell do I know,” said Pete, with such swift 
fierceness that Heritage winced involuntarily. A mad light 
had come to the cattleman’s black eyes; his voice was 
vibrant with anger. “ I can tell you this much, though. 
God help the man that done it. If I spend the rest of my 
life over it I’ll find him out. And then. . . .” 

He turned aside, his shoulders shaking. 

“ Let’s get home,” he said presently in a smothered voice. 

Heritage did not venture to speak again until they were 
within sight of the yards. 

“ Pete . . . old chap ... I wish to God there was some- 
thing I could do to help. . . .” 

A singularly sweet expression crossed the haggard face of 
the big fellow. His mouth worked oddly at the corners. 

“ I know ... I know. Jack, you must try to take me as 
you find me these days. I’m sort of sorry I flashed out at 
you like I done jess now. My mind ain’t too clear. They’s 
things go blank all of a sudden like. I don’t rightly know 
what I’m doing then. Maybe it’s because I can’t sleep of 
nights. We’re friends, ain’t we?” 

“If you dare hint that we’re not, I’ll . . . I’ll, why, I’ll 
hit you when you’re not looking and then run for help,” 
laughed Heritage. But his eyes were misty as he gripped the 
hand Pete thrust at him across the saddle. 

Presently he resumed : “ Charley Salter wants some one 
to go along to Green Valley to see about the trucks. They 
have them there now ; but there’s some hitch and they won’t 
send them up. Shall you and I go ? ” 

“ We’ll light out to-morrow morning, if you like,” said 
Pete, more in his usual tones. He looked up quickly. 
“ Hullo ! what’s wrong with Solium.” 

The little man had emerged from the door of the hut. At 
sight of them he moved quickly across. His face was puck- 
ered angrily. 

“ They’s a two-colored, button-grass spawn of a creek 
lobster sitting inside over there, jess like he owned the place,” 
he said without preface. “ I was jess going to bust him right 
open and look inside to see where all the questions come from, 
when I hearn your horses.” He looked at the cattleman with 
a smile of genuine pleasure. “ Why, Pete, I’m damned glad 


TIMBER WOLVES 313 

to see you. George will be tickled to death to know you’re 
back.” y 

“ Let’s have a quiz at your caller,” suggested Pete, as the 
two men shook hands. Entering the hut he muttered dis- 
gustedly to Heritage, “ Darned if it ain’t Samuels, the freight 
clerk.” 

Garraway’s latest ally eyed them with a mixture of dislike 
and apprehension on his pasty face. 

Pete smiled grimly. 

“.So it’s you, is it, Samuels? Now you take a word of 
advice from me. Get back to your own side of the fence and 
stay there. You ain’t up to any good coming along here. 
I’ll bet.” 

“ I looked in to let you know your trucks were at the 
Valley,” said the man sullenly. “ This is all I get for doing 
a friendly action.” 

“ We don’t ask your help,” retorted Pete ; “ you light 
out of here and stay out . . . savee! Else maybe you’ll 
learn a thing or two.” 

“ Don’t you lay a hand on me,” said Samuels shrilly. He 
rose to his feet with a spiteful glance round the hut. “ I 
know a thing or two already, if it comes to that. I know 
...” He appeared to recollect himself, and gulped re- 
sentfully. “ I know a thing or two, I do,” he finished 
lamely. 

“ Well, what do you know ? ” demanded Pete, half amused. 

“ Never mind,” said Samuels. 

At the door, however, he stopped and looked back. 

“ How’s the whisky peddling, eh ? ” he asked. 

The grin which accompanied the words was premature. 
Before he was well aware of what had happened the cattle- 
man had caught him by his collar and the slack of his trousers 
and was propelling him swiftly over the yards to the gateway, 
through which he was sent sprawling with a well-directed 
kick. He scrambled upright, his face convulsed. 

“ By God, you’ll pay for that ! I’ll teach you to put your 
filthy hands on me. I know more than you think, and . . .” 

“ Get him going, Pup,” called Pete softly. 

The kangaroo dog rose bristling. His ears flattened as he 
trotted forward. From his throat came a rumble of warn- 
ing. 

For a single instant Samuels faced the approaching animal 


314 


TIMBER WOLVES 


with a bitter, venomous stare. Then he turned and fled, 
his long legs taking him swiftly over the uneven ground. In 
imagination he heard behind him the pad of the dog’s feet. 
Fresh terror lent him wings. He tore recklessly through the 
undergrowth, cruelly barking his shins against the timber 
and scarifying his face and hands with the over-hanging 
branches. When finally he stopped and looked around, it 
was to shake his fists meaningly in the direction of his 
enemies. 

That evening while Garraway and Rebner were inspecting 
some of the belting at the mill, Samuels abruptly made his 
appearance round the end of a log stack. 

Garraway nodded carelessly. 

“It’s about time you came, ain’t it? If you hadn’t 
turned up by morning I was going down to see you. Well 
what about it ? ” 

“ I done my best, but it’s no good,” said the freight clerk 
shortly. As he spoke he applied a match to his pipe. The 
burnt end, thrown aside without caution, held a spark 
sufficient to ignite the pile of shavings stacked for kindling 
by the side of the boiler. With an angry imprecation Gar- 
raway stamped out the sudden flare. 

“ Haven’t you got more sense than to do a thing like 
that ? ” he demanded savagely. “ Gosh ! you know what 
the season is. It’s not only the mill that might burn. If a 
fire got going properly now the whole coast would melt from 
end to end. Hundreds of acres of milling leasehold would 
go up. You ought to be crucified ! ” 

“ I’m sorry,” muttered Samuels. He was staring at the 
thin wisp of smoke that curled upwards from the pile of 
charred shavings. A look of cunning came on his face. 

“ She’d have traveled like a racehorse,” supplemented 
Rebner. He lit his own pipe. “We don’t want to be out 
of a job ; eh, Boss? ” 

Garraway held up an impatient hand. 

“ Never mind that now. So you can’t hold up Salter any 
longer, is that it, Jim ? Well, Frame’s due here any day now. 
He’ll lob along just in nice time to spot that fat fraud’s 
staves going in to market, with us standing on one side like 
a lot of silly kids. The old man’ll like that, won’t he? 
He’ll raise curried hell on the lot of us.” 

“ Well, but I won’t stand for too much,” grumbled Rebner. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


3i5 


He^ thought a moment. “ There’s other men to work for, 
ain’t they? Tom wants me to go along to the west coast 
with him. Maybe I will. The way things are going, I don’t 
much care what I do.” 

“ I’d be fine and glad to hear of a way to hold Salter up 
till Frame gets here, anyway,” said Garraway. The refer- 
ence to Tom Login irritated him. It was only the night 
before that the section boss had surprised and angered Garra- 
way by declaring his intention to give over bushwhacking and 
tackle a job at one of the west coast mines. Login had 
refused to listen to the manager’s persuasion. 

“ If there is one I don’t know of it,” grunted Rebner. 
“ Unless, of course, you get the boys together and beat that 
other mob up. We could do it all right.” 

“ There’s a better way than that,” said Samuels. 

“ Name it,” invited Garraway briefly. 

The freight clerk began to speak in a voice scarcely 
louder than a whisper. As he proceeded Garraway rose 
from his seat. His face was flaming in a kind of horror. 

“ By God, no ! ” he said. “ I’ll have nothing to do with 
anything like that. What a brute you are, Samuels ! ” 

“ You’re too squeamish,” said the clerk, contemptuously. 

“ I tell you I’ll not,” said Garraway. He plucked nerv- 
ously at his lips. “ I’ll stand for most things, but that’s a 
bit too thick. It’s little short of murder.” 

“ You wouldn’t know anything about it, unless you wanted 
to,” said Samuels swiftly. He leant forward, his eyes 
glinting. “ See here, Mr. Garraway, what’s the matter 
with you? I’m trying to help, ain’t I? Those folks come 
on the bounce and you don’t like it. You kick back, but 
you don’t kick hard enough. You close up when you ought 
to open out. And now I’m handing you the one way to 
clean things up, you won’t listen to me. Your friends must 
stand a lot of discouragement.” 

“ I won’t touch it,” said the manager, for the third time. 
But his tone lacked its former vehemence. 

Samuels’ eyelids fluttered. He glanced quickly at Rebner. 
“No one asks you to; eh, Gus? You don’t know a thing 
about it. You’re odd man out just watching the fun.” 

“ Be careful what you’re doing,” said Garraway sharply. 

“ Watch me,” retorted the clerk. He held his head on one 
side in the attitude of listening. 


316 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Hear that? ” he said. 

A low menacing sound suddenly obtruded itself on the 
quiet of the night. At first barely audible it swelled gradu- 
ally to a sullen roar that resembled the far-off muttering of a 
storm. Again and again the sound was repeated. 

Garraway looked up with a little shudder. It was notice- 
able that his ordinary truculence seemed to have deserted 
him. His face looked sober. 

“ The sea getting up over Pung’s Crossing,” he said slowly. 
“ There’s wind behind that.” 

“ In a few hours they’ll come a bust that would blow the 
tail feathers out of the gamest rooster that ever crowed,” 
agreed Rebner. 

He went to the door and stood there gazing out into the 
night. 


CHAPTER XXII 



OON of the next day found Heritage and Pete Dia- 


mond riding up to the entrance of Hennessy’s hotel 


JL i at Green Valley. With a lively recollection of his 
previous visit to the place Heritage regarded the crazy struc- 
ture distastefully. 

“ I’m afraid I shall go hungry if we are reduced to dining 
here,” he remarked to the cattleman. “ Isn’t there some- 
where else we can go ? ” 

Pete smiled. 

“ I never meant to do more than stall the horses here 
anyway,” he said. “ They’s a friend of Salter’s close handy. 
We’ll get some dinner there. We can go down to the yards 
afterwards.” 

“ They tell me the chap in charge at the line is away at 
Sun Port and won’t be back till about three this afternoon,” 
he resumed, as later they made their way across the pad- 
docks. “ That being so we can sit back and yarn awhile to 
Charley’s friend. Lancy’s his name. You’ll find him a 
decent sort. He’s a sort of cripple. He can’t get around 
much. That’s why you ain’t ever seen him along The 


Bend.” 


Lancy, a grizzled bachelor with a withered right leg, 
proved well worth knowing. He chatted freely with Herit- 
age, revealing an astonishing acquaintance with the young 
man’s business. 

“ You see, Mr. Heritage, Charley keeps me pretty well 
posted on how things are going around the coast,” he ex- 
plained. “ I take near as much interest in this timber 
venture as you do yourselves. Pete, you’ll both come back 
here for a snack after you’ve put your business through at 
the yards, eh? There’s no need for you to hurry home, is 
there? Well, then come right along.” 

They left with that understanding. Out in the open the 
muggy heat was intense. The air danced and flickered 
towards the sky-line, where the vast upheave of the hills 
loomed through a haze of grayish mist. As the day ad- 


3i8 


TIMBER WOLVES 


vanced the air became full of a curious throbbing. The 
shadows cowering in the deep crannies of the foot-hills 
changed from black to purple and then to gray, merging 
upwards to meet the glare of the sun-lit slopes beyond. 
From the east a wind stirred sluggishly. 

The man in charge of the yards proved surly and hard to 
convince. In the end Heritage was forced to show him the 
letter from the management. They left with an assurance 
that their trucks would be sent on to The Bend early on the 
morrow. 

As they emerged once again into the open a puff of warm 
wind came down the valley and died away. The heat 
settled more closely together. 

Pete looked at Heritage undecidedly. 

“What say, Jack? Shall we get home right away or 
try some more of Lancy’s conversation ? ” 

“ Lancy’s an easy first,” said Heritage. “ I prefer to do 
my traveling in the cool, if it’s all the same to you. I’m not 
sun-hardened like the rest of you.” 

The cattleman grinned. 

“ All right, then. Our mokes will be safe enough at 
Hennessy’s with Pup minding them. Got the brains of a 
Christian that dog.” 

They found Lancy on his veranda. He was eyeing the 
sky with an anxious expression on his wrinkled face. 

“ We’re in for something of a wind storm by the looks of 
things,” he announced. “ You’ll be riding home against a 
head wind. Well, come on in and have a drink of tea. How 
did you get on about your trucks ? ” 

Afterwards, as they sat outside in the comparative cool 
of the dusk, Lancy voiced a further opinion. 

“ It’s a dead east wind you’ll notice. And mostly in the 
air at that. I make free to say I don’t like this puffing-billy 
business. Most always it means a steady gale at the finish. 
And that ain’t good at the tail of a dry spell like this.” 

Slowly the darkness deepened under the western timber 
line. On either side of the house the gum bushes rustled 
stealthily, their wilted foliage glimmering gray against the 
dusk. Before, rose the straight white barrels of the dead 
gums fronting the line of living bush. At each gust of wind 
myriad fingers of rotting wood moved in spectral tracery 
over the background of the fading sky. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


3i9 

Quite unexpectedly Pete sat upright. He thrust his head 
out, sniffing the air. 

“ Smell anything, Joe? ” he asked uneasily, of the cripple. 

The wind was up again. This time it came charged with a 
distinct odor of burning. 

“By jove, you’re right! I believe the bush is on fire 
somewhere,” exclaimed Lancy. His concern was instantly 
apparent. 

Pete rose to his feet. 

“ I don’t like the look of things, Jack. We’ll be wise to 
get the horses and dodge back home. They’s no business 
to be fire in that quarter. Lord, the bush is tinder! And 
we got a matter of seventy thousand staves in the yards. 
Green, but they’ll burn. See you some more, Lancy.” 

The cripple’s farewell was lost in the sudden clatter of the 
iron gable as a gust of wind caught it, wrestled fiercely for a 
moment about the building, then passed on whining into the 
face of the night. 

“ Is there really danger to the stacks ? ” asked Heritage, 
as they hurried along. He had to shout to make himself 
heard. 

“ There’s always danger at this time of year,” Pete called 
back over his shoulder. “ This may only be some dub of a 
selector burning a few logs in his back yard. Then again 
it mightn’t. In this country you never know what’s what.” 

Pup ran out from the stables to meet them. The cattle- 
man waited a second to pat the dog’s smooth coat and utter 
a word of greeting. “ Good old boy, then. They won’t be 
any one get to meddling with Tick and Tack while you’re 
around to see to things, eh? Good lad.” 

Once in the open the force of the wind was intensified. 
For a time speech was impossible. Not until they dipped 
into a hollow of the valley did Heritage find an opportunity 
to attract his companion’s attention. 

“We’re sure to get rain after this, don’t you think?” he 
bawled anxiously. “ See the clouds blotting the stars ahead 
of us.” 

“ Not clouds — smoke,” corrected Pete laconically. He 
pushed closer to Heritage. “ Jack, I don’t want to worry 
you, but they’s no doubt in my mind that Timber Bend’s 
afire. See the glow low down to the right. There’s been 
devil’s work somewhere.” 


320 


TIMBER WOLVES 


He set spurs to his horse and rode on again. Heritage’s 
thoughts were anything but comforting. If Timber Bend 
was indeed within the compass of the fire there remained 
small hope that their staves had escaped destruction. Loss 
of them meant sheer ruin. His heart went sick at thought 
of what it might mean. 

As he rode grimly after the cattleman a new sound mingled 
with the rush of the wind overhead. There came presently 
a low, sullen booming not unlike the roll of surf along the 
coast after a heavy sea, but with an insistence denied the 
latter. The sound seemed to spring from somewhere out 
of the obscurity at their feet. And then, as they turned an 
elbow of scrub, an astounding sight met his eyes. From the 
jet-black cloud hugging the horizon leapt suddenly a broad 
sheet of flame. For a second the sky glowed at white heat, 
then a roll of smoke drove up and blotted it again from 
view. 

Pete Diamond had pulled his horse to a standstill. As 
Heritage came up the cattleman twisted in his saddle and 
called : “ Jack, the plains on the edge of The Bend are ablaze. 
The way the wind has been set that can mean only one 
thing. It means that the fire has driven right across from 
the river. You bet our staves are gone.” 

“ I suppose so,” answered Heritage mechanically. His 
thoughts were bitter beyond expression. Hot anger surged 
in his heart to recall the fatality which had seemed to 
dodge his footsteps since coming to Timber Bend. For a 
time resentment choked his utterance. He sat hunched in 
his saddle, fighting desperately against a depression which 
threatened to overwhelm him. 

Pete gave a sharp exclamation. He wet a finger in his 
mouth and held it above his head. 

“By the Lord Harry, the wind’s changing! Not that it 
can matter to us now. but I mention it as a fact. She’s gone 
round a full point in the last few minutes. She’s about 
blown herself out and now she’s off rain hunting. It’s too 
late for us, anyhow. The fire will carry on jess the same till 
the rain comes. Watch out and see if I ain’t right. In a 
minute or so you’ll see the timber ahead of us go up.” 

Even as he spoke the thing happened. From the gloom in 
front a red flare burst instantaneously, flashed across the 
arc of sky and died away. A cone of smoke sprang upwards. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


321 


flattened, then spread fanwise to fade away into the night. 
The darkness deepened, hanging like a pall over the timber 
belt. Suddenly it was shot with a tiny thread of flame high 
overhead. Another and another followed in quick succes- 
sion. The smell of burning bush grew stronger. The tiny 
flame points quivered against the velvet blackness, hung there 
flaming, then launched themselves into jagged pinnacles of 
fire. They multiplied amazingly. It looked as if an unseen 
hand rained tiny meteors upon the earth. The far-off out- 
line of the trees became tipped with red spirals of flame. 

Pete touched Heritage on the arm. His voice came harshly 
through the lessening clamor of the wind. 

“ It’s hell, ain’t it ? I know how you’re feeling, Jack. 
Me? I don’t care much what happens now, one way or 
another. So far’s I’m concerned the Almighty’s done His 
damnedest . . . but I reckon He ain’t heard me squeal yet. 
It’s you and the folks on the farm that I’m thinking of now. 
Well, Charley’s house is safe, if it comes to that. He built 
where he is on purpose to dodge fires. They’s good clean 
ground all around him.” 

Heritage’s own mood was changing. At the cattleman’s 
words he was conscious of a feeling of shame. His outlook 
might be desperate enough in all conscience, yet he suddenly 
realized that it was not comparable with that of this unselfish, 
uncomplaining man beside him. Heritage’s manhood began 
to rebuke him. After all, why should he hope to escape the 
ups and downs of existence. Youth and determination were 
still his to call upon ; ambition was his to set before him as a 
beacon upon the heights of his courage; hope was his, and 
charity, and the sustaining influences of his upbringing and 
education. But for Pete Diamond what promise for the 
future could gainsay the tragedy of the past? The big 
fellow was stricken to the core. Never now would he know 
surcease of sorrow. Never again might his imprisoned soul 
look out between its bars of heredity and early environment 
to glimpse the immortal glory of the beyond. For him, 
unless by a miracle, remained nought but the ashes of his 
recklessness and bitter unbelief. No longer seen in the 
mirror of Jean Salter’s clear eyes, the ugliness that marred 
his nature — those traits which were his by pitiful birthright 

must go unrecognized and unrebuked. Heritage knew 

it must be so. The Salters knew it. Crudest of all Pete 


322 


TIMBER WOLVES 


himself knew it. In spite of that the big fellow would not 
cower. His attitude was expressed perfectly by the words 
he had just spoken : “ The Almighty has done His damnedest, 
but He ain’t heard me squeal.” Here was no blasphemy. 
The words were no more than the despairing echo of a soul 
stricken and bewildered, yet holding fast to its concept of 
manhood; the stubborn adherence to a code evolved in the 
crucible of ignorance and want. 

“ Do you believe they’s such a thing as luck, Jack?” 
asked Pete abruptly, as they went forward once more. 

“ I’m beginning to,” said Heritage. 

“ I reckon no sane man would deny it. One man can’t 
go wrong; another can’t do a thing right. I’ve seen it 
happen time after time. And it ain’t a matter of faith nor 
good living either. We’re a combination of Jonahs. Them 
old Egyptian fellers Jeannie used to tell of was pretty right 
after all. They’s such a thing as being born under a lucky 
star. Well, it can’t matter much now.” 

“ No,” said Heritage listlessly. 

Pete flashed him a quick glance. 

“ Jack, don’t let it get you that way. And yet . . . I’m 
going to ast a question of you that p’raps ain’t any of my 
business. Me and . . . and Jeannie used to think one time 
that you and Peggy Adaire . . . Jack, they’s something 
made trouble between you two. Or am I wrong ? ” 

“ God’s knows you’re only too right,” burst out the young 
man. “ Pete, I don’t know what the matter is. It’s just 
another strand of the tangle all around us. If you don’t 
mind we won’t discuss that.” 

For a second he felt the big fellow’s hand in friendly pres- 
sure on his shoulder. 

“ I reckon I knew it. And yet I got a feeling things will 
come right for you after all. But me? Jack, I don’t seem 
able to see ahead. I’ve got a queer thought that they’s no 
need to bother about the future. It’s as if they wasn’t 
going to be any — for me ; as if things was fixed already in 
some way I don’t understand. Life is a rum thing, ain’t it? 
Young or old they’s no dodging the thing that’s coming to 
meet us.” 

Heritage had little doubt that Pete was thinking of Phil 
Adaire. Quite suddenly he remembered that his real reason 
for seeking the old man must still be unknown to the cattle- 


TIMBER WOLVES 


323 


man. He had told only Jean and Peggy. For a moment he 
was prompted to enlighten his friend but reflected that there 
was little need for urgency after all. Pete undoubtedly 
identified Adaire with Barkley. The conclusion was hard to 
avoid. Heritage himself was now certain of the fact. Yet 
there still remained much of mystery about the whole matter. 
If Adaire was Barkley why should the old man conceal it? 
Why disappear so suddenly and inexplicably? Why did 
Peggy not speak, now that she knew the whole circumstances 
of his quest? The more Heritage reflected the more com- 
plex the matter appeared. 

The gale had died to a gentle breeze. Within a mile of 
home they found themselves riding over country still smol- 
dering faintly. A quarter of an hour later they dismounted 
at the yards. 

“ Not knowing what we may want to do, I reckon we’ll 
hitch one of the mokes to the fence for awhile,” said Pete. 
He led the way silently to the house. Arrived there a 
startled word escaped him. 

“ Lord, who’s this ? By gum, Charley, I hardly knew 
you ! ” 

The stout man was literally in rags. He stood in the 
doorway looking at them without a word. 

“ Well ? ” asked Pete sharply. 

“ Gone ... all gone. Every stick of them,” said Salter, 
huskily. He led the way inside and sat himself heavily 
down by the cold hearth. They saw that his face was so 
black and smoke grimed as to be scarcely recognizable. It 
was evidence of his state of mind that he had not troubled 
even to clean himself. 

“Where are the women folk?” asked Heritage appre- 
hensively. 

“ I sent them to bed. They’s no danger for the house. 
What’s the good of talking? We’re down and out.” 

Pete looked slowly round the room. 

“ How did the thing start, Charley ? ” 

The stout man regarded him apathetically. 

“I don’t know. Does it matter? We’ve got left us the 
house here and what’s on our backs. It’s a hell of a joke, 
ain’t it? They’s this much about it though . . . Frame 
was caught as well as us. The mill burnt as clean as a 
whistle — sheds, engine-house and all. And most of his 


324 


TIMBER WOLVES 


log stacks went too. The railway yard’s burnt, and about 
a mile of line. What’s the odds? We’ve no use now for a 
tramline. Did you get them trucks? They’ll be useful, 
won’t they ? ” 

“ Any one hurt ? ” asked Heritage in turn. “ What about 
our men ? Where are they ? ” 

“ Camping at the ferry house most of them,” said Salter. 
“ Old George and Solium went along to Ryan’s in case the 
fire worked round that way. Ted Ryan’s away from home 
and they’s a sick baby in the house. Was they any one hurt, 
says, you. Well, they tell me that man Samuels got himself 
roasted near to a cinder. Gus Rebner broke an arm and 
only for Garraway, would have burned too. They got out 
just in time. It was the wind changing that done it. The 
fire curled round its two ends and come right back on them 
before they guessed what was doing. We done our best, all 
of us. We might jess as well saved the worry. They was 
as much hope of putting that fire out as they would be of 
dousing hell by spitting into it.” 

The absurdity of the comparison failed to amuse the others. 
Heritage was frankly beyond emotion of any kind. He was 
desperately tired. He wanted to defer any further discussion 
until the morning. Even the news of Frame’s loss failed to 
arouse in him more than a passing interest. 

“ What’ll we do now ? What’ll we do now ? ” asked 
Salter. He looked helplessly at Pete. 

“ I don’t know,” said the cattleman slowly. “ It’s no 
use trying to figure things out until we get some sleep, any- 
how. Maybe in the morning it won’t look so bad. They’s 
a way out of most trouble if you can only find it.” He 
added sharply, " What is it, Pup ? ” 

The dog was growling uneasily. At the words he padded 
softly to Pete’s side and stood there, his lean shapely head 
pointed at the half-open door. The hair of his neck began 
to bristle. 

With a quick movement the cattleman slipped his fingers 
beneath the animal’s collar, holding him so. Almost at the 
same instant came the click of the gate without. 

“ Some of the boys,” muttered Salter. 

He rose wearily to his feet and left the room. Heritage 
heard the tramp of feet along the path and the echo of a 


TIMBER WOLVES 


325 

quick-spoken sentence. Then came the stout man’s voice, 
high-pitched and defiant. 

“ I don’t care who you are. You can’t burst into my 
house any way you like. I don’t know where Pete Diamond 
is. I ain’t seen him for nigh a week.” 

Followed the sound of scuffling. Through the door came 
two men whom Heritage had no difficulty in recognizing as 
the two strangers whose presence on The Bend had caused 
Salter so much uneasiness. The stout man followed after. 
His little eyes were alight with anger and a kind of unwilling 
apprehension. 

The foremost man threw Salter a malicious glance across 
his shoulder. 

“ You fat liar. I thought you hadn’t seen Diamond for a 
week. And here he is.” 

“ We all make mistakes,” retorted Salter, with careless 
contempt. “ You made yours when you come in here with- 
out proper authority. You’ll hear more about this.” 

Pete had not moved. He was looking at the intruders 
with a puzzled frown on his tired face. 

“ Well, you’ve got your own manners, whoever you are,” 
he said. “What’s your business with me anyhow?” 

“ We’re revenue detectives,” answered the man briefly. 

The cattleman continued to stare. 

“ Well ? ” he prompted. 

“ Oh, if you want a lecture on it ... ” said the other. 
He shrugged his shoulders. “ You want to know more, 
do you? As if you didn’t know. The game’s up so far as 
you are concerned. I hope you’ll have sense enough to see 
that and come along without trouble. I know you think 
you’re a hard nut, and all that, but you take it from me it 
won’t pay you to kick. Slow and steady’s the word. We’ll 
leave when you’re ready.” 

Pete laughed harshly. 

“ You go too fast yourself. What’s the matter with you, 
anyway? What do you think you want me for? If it’s a 
joke it’s a dashed silly one.” 

“ You’re a sly-grog peddler,” said the revenue man. At 
the words his body seemed to stiffen itself. 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“ Who told you that ? ” asked Pete slowly. 


326 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ So long as it’s true that don't matter a snap. You’ll 
have your chance in court to do all the talking you like. 
Suppose we get a move along? We’re pretty decent, but 
we don’t aim to do any arguing.” 

The cattleman’s lips quivered, but he did not speak. He 
looked from Salter to Heritage many times, as if seeking 
from the indignant faces of his friends some clue to a right 
understanding of this crowning calamity. For a minute or 
two his senses were dazed by the bitter injustice of it all. 
He began to think what he should say to these men, how he 
might bring them to realization of their mistake. He would 
bring the evidence of his friends to expose the damnable na- 
ture of this final charge. Well enough he knew it could 
be none other than Login who had sent these men. Would 
people then believe Login’s word against his ? Why 
Jeannie would tell them of her trip to Elbow Ridge, would 
tell them what she had learnt that night. Jeannie would 
. . . Something at the back of his mind seemed to snap. 
Like a flood the truth bore down upon him. Yes, Jeannie, 
indeed, could have cleared him, but . . . Jeannie was dead. 
Never again would her eyes flash their defiance of those who 
sought to harm him, never more might he hear her clear 
voice comforting, defending, pleading. . . . The reality hit 
him like a blow. His face went suddenly white beneath its 
tan. 

“If you want me, then come and take me,” he shouted. 

He dropped his hold of Pup’s collar and strode towards 
the door. The nearest policeman caught at him. Like a 
flash the cattleman turned. His doubled fist smashed into 
the man’s face with an impact that sent him almost to the 
opposite wall of the room. At almost the same instant the 
big kangaroo dog launched himself with a snarl at the re- 
maining enemy. His furiously snapping teeth missed their 
objective by the merest fraction. So swift was his leap that 
the animal shot over the man’s cringing body like a streak 
of copper flame, clear through the doorway to the boards 
of the darkened veranda without. Before he could double 
to a fresh attack Pete was beside him, calling tensely. In a 
second man and dog had disappeared into the night. 

The second policeman had recovered himself. His hand 
flew to his belt as he started forward on the run. He never 
reached the door. With a rapidity almost incredible for a 


TIMBER WOLVES 


327 


man of his bulk Charley Salter thrust out a leg and tripped 
him deliberately. He fell full length against the table, his 
revolver clattering to the brisk hearth of the chimney. 

“ To hell with the police,” cried Salter hoarsely. 

He swung round to face the first man, now rising to his 
feet with blood streaming from his broken mouth. 

“ You pimps . . . you rotten pimps. You haven’t the 
soul nor the brains of a louse between you. If you knew 
the first thing about Pete Diamond you’d surely know he 
ain’t never peddled one little drop of sly grog in all his poor, 
pitiful life.” 

The stout man was transformed. The good-natured, al- 
most timid twinkle of his eyes was changed to a stare of 
hate ; his face was plum colored ; his naked scalp twitched. 
The bitterness of bereavement, the disruption of all their 
hopes, the danger that threatened his closest friend — his 
almost son-in-law, seemed suddenly to have awakened in 
him that atavistic courage which lies deep in the nature of 
every man. He was no longer diffident, no longer afraid. 
In the violence of his anger his teeth chattered like those of 
an enraged ape. 

“ You pimps . . . blind-brained pimps. You can try now 
for a thousand lifetimes but you won’t get Pete Diamond. 
He’s a better man than the likes of you could even think of. 
And, by God ! I helped to get him away.” 

The man ignored him. Helping his comrade to his feet 
they made for the door. As they went out one of them 
called back in a furious voice : 

“ You’ll hear a lot more about this, Salter.” 

“ You go to hell,” shouted the stout man childishly. His 
voice cracked. He sat down at the table and rested his head 
on his outstretched arms. 

The whole afifair had been a matter of seconds. 
Throughout Heritage had remained like a man in a dream. 
Now, as his eyes went round the room, he was aware that 
the inside door was open. Peggy Adaire was calling his 
name in a frightened whisper. 

“Jack . . . Mr. Heritage? Oh, what is it? What has 
happened now ? ” 

She was fully dressed, in spite of the fact that she had 
just come from her bedroom. As if answering the question 
in his eyes she added quickly : 


328 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“.I couldn’t sleep. I don’t want to sleep. I heard your 
voices and . . . Tell me, what dreadful thing has happened 
now. Oh! poor Jeannie . . 

Heritage took hold of her arm gently. 

“ Peggy, if you can’t sleep, neither can the rest of us. 
A moment ago I was tired to death. But now . . . Listen, 
dear. The revenue police have been here. They wanted 
to arrest Pete for selling sly grog. Think of it! Pete! 
Jean’s Pete, who wouldn’t touch a drop of the filthy stuff 
to save his life.” 

“ Listen . . . listen ! ” whispered Peggy suddenly. 

There sounded the far away neighing of a horse. A lit- 
tle silence succeeded, broken once more by the faint tap of 
receding hoofs. On the dying wind came the harsh screech- 
ing of an owl. 

“ Aye, of course. They’re going after him,” said Heri- 
tage. He caught the girl’s hands in his own. “ Peggy 
. . . dearest . . . don’t look so miserable. They’ll never 
catch him. They’ll never get Pete to shut him up like they 
want to. Such a thing would drive him to madness. It 
would kill him. But they’ll never get him.” 

“ Never, please God ! ” said Peggy brokenly. 

With streaming eyes she looked past him to the crumpled 
figure of the stout man. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A T noon on the following day Frame dropped from 
the trucks to the boardway at the Green Valley yards. 
News of the destruction of his plant at Timber Bend 
had reached the timber man as he came down the line. As 
a natural result he was in one of his most pugnacious moods. 
When Garraway walked over to greet him Frame burst 
instantly into a string of angry questions. 

“ What’s all this about the mill burning, Slum ? They 
tell me there’s'not a rafter left standing. All the way along 
I’ve had them yapping it into my ears like a pack of half- 
starved mongrels. By God! I believe one or two of them 
are actually glad about it. Well, what’s the strength of it? ” 
“ Oh, it’s true enough, Mr. Frame,” said the manager. 
He eyed his principal sulkily. “ The thing was mostly your 
own fault, anyway. I’m about fed up with the whole 
business.” 

Frame choked. 

“ My fault ? What the devil do you mean by that ? ” 
Garraway paused in the act of unhitching the tie-rope 
from the waiting buggy horses. He looked Frame squarely 
in the eye this time. 

“ Call it Samuels’ fault then, if you want to split words. 
Samuels was your man, wasn’t he? You sent him along to 
The Bend here to play hell, didn’t you? And well enough 
he played it. Sent himself there to start with, and pretty 
near burnt up the whole island.” 

“ They told me something of that too,” said Frame 
harshly. His face held no shadow of pity for the wretched 
tool gone thus abominably to his death. “ So Samuels set 
the fire going? Now will you tell me what maggot was in 
your brain to stand by and let him do a thing like that? 
Why didn’t you stop him? You might be a lot of kids from 
the way you’ve handled things this last week or so. I want 
to know.” 

“ Look here, Mr. Frame, you don’t suppose we go and 
burn ourselves out of a job just for the fun of it, do you? ” 
asked Garraway, with some show of resentment. 

329 


330 


TIMBER WOLVES 


It was plain the manager was ill at ease. Since the fire 
a queer expression had settled on his face. He seemed all 
at once to have become more thoughtful, even a little wist- 
ful. 

He resumed presently : “ I never held with Samuels’ 
notion. I told him so. I suppose we had to do something 
anyway. You sent word to hold Salter at any cost until 
you came. Well, we’ve done it. And now you’re finding 
the price too big for you. Yet I can tell you that if the 
wind hadn’t changed when it did, you’d have been sitting 
here now handing out smiles instead of curses.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” muttered the timber man. For a long time 
he sat huddled silently in his seat, his face puckered in 
thought and his teeth chewing savagely on the butt of his 
cold cigar. 

“ Of course I’m sorry for the whole thing,” pursued Gar- 
raway, after an interval. This time he spoke more equably, 
as if realizing the relationship between them. “ You’ve got 
young Heritage stopped, anyhow. He’ll send no staves to 
market this season.” 

Frame roused himself with an exclamation. 

“ Heritage ? Bah ! I had that young puppy stopped 
any time I liked. I’ve had him just where I wanted him 
from the very start. Good God ! do you think I had to 
spend the price of a saw-mill and three log stacks to do 
it?” 

He fell once more to frowning silence, from time to time 
peering from beneath his heavy brows at the interminable 
vista of charred plain over which they were driving. In 
the early hours of the morning almost torrential downpour 
of rain had succeeded the calm after the gale. The water 
had settled the burnt ground to a pulpy, sticky ash which 
clung to the buggy wheels with the tenacity of clay and spat- 
tered the occupants with little globules of greasy moisture. 
Of this, however, Frame took no notice. He remained si- 
lent until they came within sight of the green country bor- 
dering the river. Then his lips opened to ask a single surly 
question. 

“ Where’s Login ? ” 

“ Gone,” said Garraway with equal brevity. 

“ Gone ? What do you mean by that ? Gone where ? ” 

“Paid off last night,” said Garraway. “If he hasn’t 


TIMBER WOLVES 


33i 


actually left the place, he means to soon. He says he’s go- 
ing for a job on one of the west coast mines. He don’t 
give any reason. And that’s all I can tell you about it.” 

“ I see,” observed the timber man. There was a world of 
meaning in his tone. “ Trust the rats to leave the sinking 
ship, eh, Slum? Well, this ship ain’t sunk yet, not by a 
long chalk. As you know, the mill was insured. The fire is 
a setback but nothing more. In a couple of months we’ll be 
going full swing again. Now you just take note of this one 
thing. If Login comes back to The Bend he don’t get a 
job from me. Understand?” v 

“ I ought to,” said Garraway. He gave his employer a 
curious glance. 

At a fork of the track he pulled the buggy up. 

“ I suppose you want to go along to the mill site and 
make your own estimate of the damage ? ” he asked. 

“ Not yet,” said Frame sharply. He glanced at his watch. 
“ Not yet, Slum. That can wait till later. Drive on to 
Salter’s farm. Heritage and all the crowd are camped there 
now, you say? Good! We’ll go along and hand them 
their medicine and get it done with. I’m in the mood to mix 
the dose strong. Lord, I wouldn’t forego this for a thou- 
sand pounds ! ” 

Whatever his thought was it appeared to restore his good 
humor. The frown left his face. Once more he became 
the man Heritage had known and liked in the days before 
his enlightenment — smiling, smooth-spoken, heavily good- 
natured. He thrust his cigar case at Garraway almost af- 
fectionately. 

“ Take a couple, Slum, my boy. They’re the best. Win 
chose them for me just before I left home. You remem- 
ber Win, eh? Smart girl that, though I say it myself. 
She’s to marry Speedie the share-broker in the spring. 
We’ll pull through after all, eh? Trust two hard-bitten 
old dogs like us to dodge the puddles along the road. Well, 
well ! we must make the best of things. I was a bit put out 
at first, you understand. That’s all over, eh?” 

George Judney, pottering aimlessly around the barn, was 
the first to sight the approaching buggy. For a long minute 
he stared, his lips shaping to a dubious whistle at recogni- 
tion of Garraway. Frame he had never seen before, yet 
guessed instinctively that the burly man sitting beside the 


332 


TIMBER WOLVES 


manager could be no other than the timber man himself. 
The discovery was disturbing. Although ignorant of their 
mission the hut-keeper shrewdly calculated it to be the re- 
verse of friendly. With a final glance he went swiftly 
along to the house. 

“ They’s a surprise party coming,” he called to Heritage, 
who was talking earnestly with, Salter and Solium on the 
veranda. “ Slum Garraway is driving Frame along to see 
us. They’ll be here in about five minutes. I’ll bet they’s 
mischief in the wind.” 

“ Frame, eh?” said Heritage. 

The four men eyed each other in silence for a moment. 
Heritage had a hard light in his eyes. He rose carefully to 
his feet and squared his shoulders. 

“ Well, I’m not surprised. We’ve known all along that 
Frame would turn up sooner or later. The plain fact is 
that he probably thinks he has now a good opportunity to 
try to intimidate us, or bluff us into some compromise 
whereby he gets all he wants and we get nothing. Last 
night (or early this morning, I should say) we talked things 
out and decided to fight on. And we stick to that. Per- 
sonally I’ll see this man damned before I let him grab a 
single foot of our holding.” 

“ Go to it, Jack,” said the stout man approvingly. 
“ That’s the spirit. And if Frame wants to talk, let him 
come and find us. We don’t do no running around after 
him. I don’t see what he can do to hurt us, anyhow.” 

Already Salter had recovered something of his accus- 
tomed optimism. He had come vaguely to believe that Jean 
would not wish them to allow thought of the past to un- 
nerve their resolution. She would wish them to face the 
future unafraid, unhindered by useless regret for herself. 
Unselfishness had been the keynote of the girl’s pitifully 
short existence. 

This conclusion had cheered Salter amazingly. Having 
plumbed the depths of despondency he began now to yield 
to the promptings of his newly awakened courage. The 
result was a curious commingling of trepidation and confi- 
dence. 

At the news of Frame’s approach Solium also had risen 
to his feet. His dried-up face held a ludicrous expression 


TIMBER WOLVES 


333 

of resolve. He was about to move away when Judney inter- 
posed : 

“ Ain’t trying to run away from Slum, eh, Joe?” 

The grin which accompanied the words stirred the little 
man to angry rejoinder. 

“ Me run away ? Why, you tea-swilling slab, I don’t run 
from nobody ; and you ought to know that. Leggo my 
arm.” 

“ I can tell by your face they’s some dashed silly notion 
at the back of your head,” pursued his friend, unabashed. 
“ Where you going, I say ? ” 

“ Sticky beak,” said Solium sourly. “ I’m going along 
to the barn for the old shotgun, if you want to know. She 
needs cleaning now and again, same as you do. Now you 
leggo before I dot you one.” 

Judney’s only reply was to yank the little man suddenly 
from his feet and deposit him none too gently on the hard 
boards of the veranda. Having done this he remained 
standing alongside in the attitude of a guardian. 

“ I reckon Bill Hardie would have spanked the stuffing 
out of you for spouting such foolishness,” he rumbled 
wrathfully into Solium’s unwilling ear. “ Do you want us 
with murder on our hands? Now you jess kick my shins 
again and see what happens. And hush up that langwidge, 
won’t you ? Don’t you see they’s the ladies coming.” 

Mrs. Salter and the two girls had appeared round the 
side of the house. Seeing the approaching men they were 
about to retrace their steps when the stout man called to 
them : 

“ Come right over and set down with the rest of us, 
mother. Now, that’s the idea. Jess as if we were going to 
have a group photo. Yes, that’s your head wolf. That’s 
Frame, that is. If they’s anything doing you might as well 
hear it as the rest of us.” 

He added after a moment: “Ever see Frame before, 
Sadie?” 

The girl shook her head without speaking. The events 
of the past few weeks had left their mark upon her. Her 
old expression of reckless good-nature had vanished utterly. 
There was something infinitely sad in the pinched face and 
drooping body. In her wide-open eyes lurked the shadow of 


334 


TIMBER WOLVES 


a great horror, as if her mind dwelt continually on the 
tortured memory which beset it. 

“ Well, then you ain’t missed much,” supplemented the 
stout man under his breath. 

Frame had preceded his manager down the path. He 
walked with ponderous jauntiness, his hands in his pockets 
and a fresh-lit cigar at the corner of his mouth. If he re- 
marked the absence of any greeting it did not appear to give 
him concern. 

“ Good evening, ladies. And this, of course, is Mr. Sal- 
ter? Glad to find you at home.” He looked suddenly at 
Heritage, as if to catch the young man by surprise, and a 
hard smile came on his face. “And there’s Jack, too, eh? 
Quite a little family party. Well, Jack, and how’s the tim- 
ber business? Coming up to expectations, eh? Tut — 
tut, man; no need to look annoyed. I did my best to warn 
you, you know. But you wouldn’t listen to the old man.” 

“Who are you?” interjected Salter bluntly. 

Frame gave him closer attention. 

“ A superfluous question surely. Don’t you know ? ” 

“ I ain’t good at guessing,” said the stout man. “ Sup- 
posing you tell me ? ” 

Some quality in the drawling voice appeared to impress 
the timber man unpleasantly. His brows came together in 
a frown. 

“ So. I’m Sam Frame.” 

Salter gave a little sigh. 

“ Jess so. Of course I knew that.” 

“Then why ask?” mquired Frame sharply. 

The stout man looked him up and down with frank dis- 
like. 

“ I reckon I jess wanted to see if you had gall enough to 
admit it. I see you have.” 

Judney broke into a rumble of mirth. He met Frame’s 
quick stare with a grin of easy contempt. 

“ Know me again if you see me ? ” he asked impudently. 

“ I shall know you again all right,” said Frame grimly. 
He turned to the silent Garraway. “ Slum, who’s that 
man ? ” 

That’s George Judney. You remember I told you about 
him,” said the manager uneasily. Peggy Adaire who had 
been steadily observing him (though for what reason she 


TIMBER WOLVES 


335 


could not herself have told) gained a quite ridiculous im- 
pression that Garraway was somehow ashamed of the part 
he was being called to play. “ He’s a ... a fairly tough 
customer. He threatened to knife me once. I wrote you 
about that. That’s why I sacked him.” 

“Oh . . . that?” said Frame, as if suddenly recollect- 
ing. 

What more he might have said was cut short by the shrill 
voice of Solium Joe. 

“ George . . . George, I won’t have it ! D’you hear ? 
You ain’t to talk any more. Have a heart, George.” 

“ Why ain’t I to talk ? ” demanded the lank hut-keeper in 
genuine surprise. 

“ Because the gen’lemen from the city don’t like it,” said 
Solium rapidly. “ They ain’t used to your rough ways. 
You get on their nerves. You’re a bad egg. You stick 
knives into people. They’s a right way and a wrong way of 
letting folks know you don’t like ’em. You got the wrong 
way. The right way is to grab his belongings when he ain’t 
looking, or hold up his railway trucks, or maybe set fire to 
the bush and smoke him out. Your ways is coarse and vul- 
gar. I’m kind of disappointed in you, George. Try and 
become a gent with a red face and see how your banking 
account will swell up till it near busts.” 

Quite suddenly Frame realized that these men were deli- 
berately setting themselves to bait him. These ignorant 
bush-dwellers whom he had supposed at the last extremity 
of their courage, whose future he held in the hollow of his 
hand, did they but know it, refused to admit defeat; were 
actually laughing at him to his face, taunting him, defying 
him, as it might be, to do his worst. The timber man’s 
cheeks went purple. 

“ That’s enough of that,” he almost shouted. “ I came 
here to make you a fair enough proposition — one that be- 
havior certainly does not entitle you to. What I had in 
mind still holds, but it will be final now. I’ll consider no 
alternative. So much for the impudent way you’ve met me. 
Now listen to the truth. You’re down to bedrock, the lot 
of you. You’ve no stock, and mighty little credit. You’re 
down and out, whether you know it or not. And I’m glad 
pf it. Now what are you going to do? ” 

" That’s our business ! ” retorted Heritage. 


336 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Frame eyed him queerly. 

“ You think so, do you ? I’ll do my best to make you 
understand that it’s a good deal mine too. Once more, how 
are you going to carry on? How are you going to . . . 
but, pshaw ! I don’t expect any answer to that. You can’t 
carry on. You’ve haven’t enough credit to run a fruit bar- 
row on the streets. You’re under contract to deliver staves 
you haven’t got — and haven’t the ghost of a chance to get. 
It would take five thousand pounds to prop you up. Where 
are you going to get it from? You can’t get it! You 
surely don’t imagine the Vilmy Company is going to nurse 
the baby while you play the fool through eternity, do you? ” 

“ What do you know about the Vilmy Company, Mr. 
Frame?” asked Heritage quickly. In spite of himself he 
was startled. 

“ I know this much, that they ain’t in business for the 
good of their health. And they don’t make a practice of 
almsgiving. Those that fall off the ladder must pick them- 
selves up.” 

“ That’s the meanest thing I ever heard a man say,” 
broke in Mrs. Salter unexpectedly. The old lady was on her 
feet, her careworn face tinged with angry pink. She shook 
a finger at the timber man. “ Mr. Frame, did you ever 
trouble to think what success might mean for others? 
We’ve all a right to be happy — to have our share of the 
good things of life. It’s not hard work that gets them, God 
knows! They’s more money in an ounce of shady work 
than in all the toil an honest fool ever did. I ain’t admit- 
ting we’ve failed even now. But if we have, we’ve failed 
cleanly and honestly. The only charity we ever asked was 
the charity of fair play. And that we’ve never had.” 

“ There’s no sentiment in business,” said Frame uncom- 
fortably. “ I don’t want to be rude, but I prefer to discuss 
this matter with your husband.” 

But the old lady continued to look at him steadily. 

“ Oh, shame on you, Mr. Frame. You . . . with your 
high living and comfort and sneering dislike of every de- 
cent thing. It is you and your kind that make life so hard 
for the rest of us. You would deny us the right to live. 
You would . . .” Mrs. Salter’s attitude changed abruptly. 
Her composure seemed suddenly to desert her. Her mouth 
trembled and tears came into her eyes. She turned to her 


TIMBER WOLVES 


337 

husband, all her pent up bitterness finding expression in a 
smothered cry: 

“ My girl . . . my Jeannie. . . .” 

“ There — there, mother,” said the stout man huskily. 
He began clumsily to pat her arm but she passed him by and 
went into the house. 

Frame turned back to Heritage with a shrug of his shoul- 
ders. “ I said the Vilmy Company won’t carry you for- 
ever. Well?” 

“ I never supposed they would,” said the young man. 

He was tormented by a foreboding of evil. How had 
Frame come so clearly to know of their relations with the 
Vilmy people? Why did he choose to speak of them now? 

“All the same, I think they will stick to us for awhile 
yet,” he said slowly. “ They won’t turn us down without a 
chance; particularly since I’ve sent them a letter which 
explains everything. The Vilmy Company makes a point 
of advertising its desire to help the small man. If you 
know anything of the company you must know that it is up 
against ring methods. And in any case they couldn’t afford 
to drop us. It would mean a dead loss to them. This is 
only a temporary setback, nothing more. If you’re trying 
to scare us that way, Mr. Frame, you can’t do it.” 

“Is that so?” said Frame. He paused a second, deli- 
berately flicking the ash from his cigar. His eyes were very 
cruel. “Is that so, Jack? Poor Jack. Tut — tut, and 
really now you mean to tell me you never, knew I was be- 
hind the Vilmy people? Why, God damn it, man, I am the 
Vilmy Company. Ah ... so at last you know where you 
stand ! Well, I warned you.” 

Heritage went white. 

“ Oh, but that’s a lie, Mr. Frame.” 

Frame’s last vestige of tolerance vanished. 

“Is it? Is it a lie? You young puppy! Is it a lie, 
Slum? Bah! ...” 

“ It’s true enough,” said Garraway in a low voice. He 
gave his principal a look of dislike. “ Yes, it s true enough. 

But Heritage would not listen. 

“ It’s a lie, I tell you. Charley . . - Peggy, it’s a lie. 
It can’t be true. How could it be true ? ” 

But his voice carried no conviction. He was conscious 
that Charley Salter was looking at him, that they were all 


338 


TIMBER WOLVES 


looking at him. He felt Peggy Adaire’s hand on his arm, 
saw the trembling of her lips as she spoke to him; though 
what the words were he could not hear for the buzzing in 
his ears. If this thing were true? . . . but he couldn’t 
bring himself to think of it. These people, these friends of 
his who had trusted him, who had taken his assurance that 
here, at least, his precautions had placed them beyond pos- 
sibility of failure, these friends. . . . 

Salter was calling to him. To Heritage’s amazement 
there was no accusation, no hint of bitterness, in the stout 
man’s tones. On the contrary his voice was fraught with a 
magnificent courage. 

“ Jack, don’t let it worry you. If it’s a lie, well and good. 
If it ain’t . . . then well and good likewise. You wasn’t to 
know a single thing about it. It’s just one more dirty trick 
of a dirty lot. A straight man ain’t got a chance against a 
pack of wolves. But he can keep his hands clean. That’s 
worth living for, ain’t it? Let them do their worst. We 
don’t climb down for any one.” 

Frame whirled about. 

“Climb down? What are you talking about ? You won’t 
get a chance to climb down. I should say not. You’ll be 
pulled down. Lord . . . and to think I’ve had you where 
I wanted you from the very beginning. I guessed every 
thought you ever had ; I knew every move you made.” He 
turned back to Heritage. “ When you and Colvin found 
the Vilmy Company you thought you were Christmas. You 
thought you had Sam Frame on the hook. I’ll give James 
that much credit ... he certainly played his part well. 
He’s not the best man I’ve got, but good enough. The job 
was only a second rate one at the time.” 

Heritage looked at the timber man with burning eyes. 

“ Mr. Frame, on your own showing you’ve been a cheat 
and a blackguard. There’s nothing smart about it. 
You’re . . .” 

Frame banged his hand on his knee. 

“ That’s enough ! That’s enough from you ! Don’t you 
call me names. A pretty one to preach you are . . . with 
your cant and whine. You’re one of the sort that crawl 
after the plums under cover of a psalm and never know 
yourself for the hypocrite you are. You’ll pay the price 
now,” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


339 


“ As if we hadn’t paid already,” said Salter. He looked 
at the timber man with a trace of wistfulness, as if wonder- 
ing how he could so lose sight of the truth. “ The loss of 
time and labor and money — that’s bad enough. But it 
ain’t the worst. We’ve paid in other ways. Do you think 
even you could exact harder terms than we’ve already met. 
I tell you no ! Beside the loss of my girl anything you could 
do to hurt me ain’t worth considering. What do you say 
to that ? ” 

Frame’s rancor led him to overstep the mark. For a 
moment he lost sight of even the rudiments of decency. 

“ Why, that there will be one less of you to starve,” he 
cried brutally. 

“ Oh ! you . . . you . . .” began Salter in a furious voice, 
but got no further. To the surprise of every one the pro- 
test was drowned by Garraway’s big, booming tones. The 
manager’s face had lost its sullen, hangdog look. He 
seemed suddenly to have arrived at a decision as momen- 
tous as it was unexpected. An immense disgust was ap- 
parent in his voice. 

“ By Jove! that’s about my finish. Mr. Frame, that was 
a rotten thing for you to say. I’ve carried out my orders 
as I got them, and I’m game to admit I’ve had my fingers in 
some dirty work. But I reckon I’ve touched the limit in 
this. Man to man is one thing. But when it comes to 
saying cheap things of a dead girl you can count me out of 
it. You couldn’t have known Jean Salter! There wasn’t 
a decent man on the coast that didn’t like and respect her. 
And I’ll own this much — in my heart I’ve always thought 
her the straightest, finest woman I ever knew. The man 
that could sneer like you did ain’t a man at all ; he’s nothing 
but a damned cowardly hound ! ” 

Garraway turned swiftly to Charley Salter, who was lis- 
tening open-mouthed. 

“ Charley, I want you to know I’m sorry. We ain’t been 
friends this long time, but I want to tell you that’s all over 
now. Fve done you some dirt. Forget it. I’ve learnt a 
lot this last week.” 

The stout man came at Garraway with outstretched hand. 
His little eyes were shining. 

“ Thank you, Slum. I reckon them words make it quits 
between us for all time. I’d like fine to be friends again. 


340 


TIMBER WOLVES 


If the under dogs don’t stick together it’s a poor lookout 
for the working man. I always knew they was a big streak 
of the white man in you for all you bumped us hard enough 
at times. Not that they’s any way you can help undo the 
tangle now. It’s too late for that. But I’m almighty glad 
you said what you did.” 

Frame had recovered from his amazement. His face 
was livid. For a moment it seemed that he contemplated 
striking Garraway. 

“ Yes . . . you’re through all right. You never spoke a 
truer word, Garraway. You’ve drawn your last money 
from me. You’re sacked. I’ll have no man of mine cur 
enough to bite the hand that feeds him. First Login, and 
now you. By the Lord Harry, there’s a conspiracy in this ! 
I begin to understand now how things went as they did.” 

“ You get off this farm,” snapped Salter. “ You’ve said 
too much already ! Get off my land ! ” 

“ I’ll go when I’m ready,” 1 retorted Frame. “ You’ll 
have your own company soon enough. I wish you joy of it. 
Now listen to me. I came here prepared to make you an 
offer. If you’d been any way decent I was going to let you 
down light. I was going to give you a chance to meet the 
other party on your broken contract. I was going to buy 
your leases from you. But now . . . I’ll take them.”. 

“ Get out of here ! ” repeated the stout man ominously. 

With deliberate contempt Frame turned his back. He 
threw out his arm, pointing towards the black mass of the 
timber line. 

“ I’ve more to say first. Over yonder is . . . is . . . 
My God, Sir . . . who are you ? ” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


E NDEAVORING some time afterwards to recon- 
struct the scene for Colvin’s benefit, Heritage was 
able to recall that the quick change in Frame’s man- 
ner was almost grotesque in its suggestion of utter panic. 
For perhaps half a dozen seconds the timber man stood un- 
moving, transfixed, in an attitude which was the very em- 
bodiment of harsh, unyielding anger. His arm continued 
outstretched ; his big close-cropped head remained thrust 
forward as he had lowered it in the final evidencing of his 
triumphant malice. And in the next breath his body seemed 
to crumple. His jaw dropped; his arm began to shake as 
if with palsy. Most curious of all, the big menacing voice 
faltered and broke to a kind of strangled whisper, as if an 
invisible cord tightened itself about his windpipe. The 
abrupt transition from one tone to the other had all the ap- 
positeness of melodrama; would, in fact, have sounded su- 
premely ludicrous had it not been for the air of tragic sin- 
cerity which accompanied the words. 

Between Frame and the gate stood Phil Adaire. So en- 
grossed had they been that the old man’s approach was un- 
noticed until that moment. His attitude presented a strik- 
ing contrast to that of Frame. He stood erect, within a 
few feet of the cringing timber man, his frail figure poised 
with the eagerness of a beagle at the instant preceding the 
actual point. From his lips came a single name, uttered so 
shrilly as to drown even Peggy’s glad cry of welcome. 

“ Clarkson?” he called. And then again, with a kind of 
startled emphasis, “Clarkson?” 

Frame winced. He brought his arm to the level of his 
head in the manner of one anticipating a blow. They no- 
ticed as a curious fact that the scar on his neck seemed to 
stand out like the weal left by the lash of a whip. 

“ Phil Barkley, by God ! ” he said thickly. 

Adaire’s answering laugh was a revelation. The emotions 
of a lifetime seemed crowded into a single, brief, unhu- 
morous convulsion. 


34i 


342 


TIMBER WOLVES 


“ Aye, Phil Barkley ! But think of it . . . for twenty 
years I’ve hid the name in my coward heart; for twenty 
years Fve gone in terror of honest men. IVe been an out- 
cast, a pariah of pariahs, obsessed by remembrance of a 
guilt that was never mine. What a sport of circumstance 
can a man become. And I thought I had killed you ? ” 

Frame bared his teeth in a grin of sheer hate. The pen- 
dulum of his courage was on the upward swing. Such fear 
as he had known was moral rather than physical. He 
turned to face the others with a hoarse cry. 

“ You, Salter . . . and you, Heritage. I take all you 
people to witness that this man tried to murder me. Twenty 
years ago . . . does it matter how long. You’ve heard him 
confess it. See here . . . the scar on my neck. That’s 
where he knifed me — my own knife, snatched from my 
belt — and left me for dead. As sure as there’s law in the 
land he shall be made to answer for that . . . even after 
twenty years. I charge this man with attempted murder. 
Look at him. He dare not deny it.” 

Adaire was holding Peggy’s hands tight pressed in his 
own. On his face was a transforming tenderness. 

“ Sam, have I attempted to deny it ? God knows I meant 
to kill you ... as you killed the wife who was dearer to 
me than all else in this life. For the guilt in my heart the 
years have punished me. I see things more clearly now, and 
I thank God he failed me in my purpose. Not that I regret 
it, nor the hate that prompted it. For that one thing you 
did neither time nor eternity can gain forgetfulness for me. 
Let your own conscience declare which of us merits the 
greater condemnation. You threatened me with man’s law. 
But I charge you before the law of Almighty God, which 
knows no corruption and shall endure beyond the grave it- 
self.” 

“ Get out of my way,” said Frame. 

He advanced threateningly. But his eyes still retained 
their fear. He halted within a foot of Adaire’s suddenly 
upraised hand. 

“ Wait,” said the old man earnestly. He tightened his 
clasp of Peggy’s hands. “And you, too, child. Let me 
speak. Let me set this matter right once and for all. This 
man here — Clarkson — was once my friend. Twenty 
years ago. We were inseparable. ... He and I and Dick 


TIMBER WOLVES 


343 

Moyes. We trusted each other implicitly. I want you to 
understand what friendship meant to us then.” 

“ There was a girl . . . Dick’s cousin . . . Lucy Moyes 
was her name. When I first saw her I thought (as I do 
now, and will to the end of time) that she was the most beau- 
tiful woman I had ever seen . . . one of those fragrantly 
clean, sweet women God sometimes delights to create, and 
your . . . your mother, Peggy.” 

A little silence fell, broken only by the old man’s heavy 
breathing. Strangely enough Frame made no attempt to 
interrupt. He seemed frozen to inaction by the compelling 
earnestness of Adaire’s voice: 

“ Why is it, I wonder, that friendship such as ours should 
yield to the touch of a woman’s hand, the smile of her eyes, 
the soft tones of her voice ? It’s like that sometimes. Love 
can raise a man to heaven, or push him into a hell of his 
own making. One night Dick Moyes called us both into 
his room. His voice shook when he spoke. I can remem- 
ber his very words. ‘ This thing has gone far enough, boys,’ 
he said. * To me there is something dreadful in the knowl- 
edge that love for the truest, sweetest girl that ever lived 
should wreck our friendship. If we don’t face the matter 
fairly something terrible will come of it. A word should 
settle this uncertainty forever. Only let us abide by her 
decision. Let’s play the game, as we’ve always done since 
we were little chaps at school together. May the best man 
win. And God bless him and her.’ That was the sense of 
what he said. He was rough and ready in speech as he was 
in manner. But a whiter man than Dick Moyes never 
breathed. I ... I wonder where he is now? 

“ There is no need to go into details. It was I your 
mother loved, Peggy. God alone knows why, for beside the 
others I was a poor travesty of manhood. Perhaps it 
was pity turned her heart to mine. Pity and love are never 
far apart in the heart of a good woman. But she loved 
me, whatever the reason. And that is all I need know. 
And so we three men that had been such friends parted 
. . . forever, as I thought. Moyes went to sea. Clarkson 
remained in Melbourne. And Lucy and I came south to 
Tasmania. I never set eyes on Dick Moyes again. I never 
even heard of him. But there never was a man I loved so 
well. Only you see I loved my wife more than any living 


344 


TIMBER WOLVES 


creature, and God so willed it that I had to choose between 
them. 

“ Mr. Heritage, I think you’ve known from the first that 
I must be the man you wanted. Why you wanted me I 
don’t know even now. But, thank God, it is not for what I 
feared. Wait . . . let me go on. Yes, you kne^v, but you 
were puzzled. All my friends knew in a vague kind of way, 
but their loyalty held them silent until I chose to speak. 
The pretense went on day after day. Only Peggy has 
known the fear in my heart. Poor child ... I told her 
everything the night I went away from you all. That was a 
coward thing to do ... to run away. But Login had told 
me. . . . How can I hope to make you understand ? ” 

Frame opened his lips to speak, but the old man con- 
tinued with feverish rapidity. For the first time he showed 
a trace of anger. 

“ Listen ! A year after I came to Tasmania, Clarkson 
here married. Then we heard (and were sorry to hear) 
that his wife had left him, leaving with him their one child 
— a girl. It was when Peggy was five years old that Clark- 
son came to our home. He told us that he had come south 
on a business venture and that it was pure accident he had 
found us out. But from the very first he tried to make 
love to Lucy. Yes, he did that. He . . . who had been my 
friend ! And because she feared what I might do in my an- 
ger she suffered him in silence, hoping against hope that 
her steady refusal to listen might waken him to conscious- 
ness of his folly and wickedness. Poor girl . . . poor girl, 
why didn’t you speak?” 

Adaire was shaking now. He held out his hands as if in 
appeal. His voice became strident. 

“ Then the end came. I was away on business. Some- 
thing kept me even later than I had meant. It was long 
after dark when I started for home. Clarkson must have 
known I was gone. Oh, the devil had primed him well. 
It was a wild night and Lucy was anxious about me. She 
kept going to the door to look for me. And it was then 
that this man drove up in his buggy. I had been hurt, he 
told her . . . struck down by a falling limb, as so often 
happens to those living amongst the big timber. I was 
asking for her. And he ... he had come to fetch her to 
me. That was what he told her.” 


TIMBER WOLVES 


345 

For a second the old man seemed to struggle for breath. 
He turned on Frame with a shout. 

“ Silence. To think of it . . . you to stand there un- 
moved from your vile purpose, watching the despair in 
her eyes as she fought against her fear, hugging the lie to 
your heart even while you listened to her broken thanks for 
your kindness. You dog . . . wait, I will speak. You 
drove her away into the blackness. Miles from home you 
told her the truth. You taunted her. Your story had been 
a lie from beginning to end. She was trapped at last . . . 
compromised beyond mending. I would cast her off. I 
would . . . but the realization drove her frantic. As well 
might you have tried to reason with the storm itself. Her 
one thought was to reach home before I came, to find her 
sleeping baby. . . . And in the end you had to let her go. 
You left her there by the roadside in the sodden night and 
drove away in a fury of unfulfilled desire. And she . . . 
God help her, stumbling home through the blackness, 
drenched to the bone, shaking from terror and weariness. It 
was so I found her. God . . . can I ever forget it?” 

But Peggy could stand the strain no longer. She caught 
at the old man in an ecstasy of love and grief. For a mo- 
ment the onlookers were forgotten. They were there to- 
gether — husband and daughter, clinging in terror while the 
years rolled back on this bitter tragedy of the past. 

“ Daddy . . . Daddy, don’t torture yourself like this. 
How you must have loved her . . . my mother. The dear- 
est, truest woman in the world. Don’t speak of it any 
more, dear.” 

Adaire looked at her pitifully. 

“ But I must. That night’s exposure killed her. In two 
days she was dead. And I ... I was mad for awhile. 
I set out to find this man here. What I would do when we 
met I did not know. But now I know I meant to kill him, 
as surely as he killed Lucy. Something told me I should 
find him alone. And I did. I sprang at him with my bare 
hands, but he threw me off — laughing at me, taunting at my 
weakness. Only when I cried to him that Lucy was dead 
did he give me the chance I craved. He hadn’t known 
things were as bad as that. His nerve left him for just a 
second. It was then I snatched the knife from his belt and 
struck him. Was that murder? What else? And that 


346 


TIMBER WOLVES 


night I left our home and buried myself here in the bush. 
The rest you know. For twenty years I knew the torment 
of Cain. And then when at last it seemed my sin had 
found me out I fled a second time. But only for a time, 
thank God. When I heard how my friends were suffering, 
how Jean was dead, how Pete was hunted by the police for 
a crime of which he was innocent, I could stay away no 
longer. I saw my action in its true light. I could be cow- 
ard no longer. And so I came back to face the future side 
by side with those that loved me. And those that want Phil 
Barkley need seek no further.” 

“ Is this true? ” cried Salter. He was eyeing Frame with 
the utmost loathing. “ Is this true, Mr. Frame? But of 
course it is ! ” 

Frame turned with a kind of desperation: 

“ It’s a tissue of lies.” 

But once more Adaire cut him short. 

“Frame? Clarkson? Are you Frame, then? You too 
changed your name. You were afraid — as I was afraid. 
It’s you we’ve been fighting then? Oh, surely some intui- 
tion might have warned me of this. Your name you could 
change, but your nature never. The mark of the beast must 
be on you until you die.” 

“ Out of my way,” said Frame thickly. “ So you too are 
in this timber farce. Good! I’ll break you now like a 
rotten twig. I’ll send you howling from the island with the 
rest of them.” 

“ You can’t hurt me now,” said the old man with quiet 
contempt. 

“ I can’t? There’s something still for you to hear. These 
others know it. Look at them. D’you know what I stand 
for? I’m the Vilmy Company. I’ve got you neck and 
crop. You’re in debt to me — Sam Frame or Sam Clark- 
son, whichever you like. Now then, let me pass ! ” 

“ Stop a moment, Mr. Frame,” said Peggy. Her voice 
shook with excitement. “ What if we can find the money 
after all? Yes, and a dozen times over, if need be. It was 
surely God’s Providence you came here when you did so 
that my father could recognize you. He returns a rich man. 
Do you hear that, Mr. Frame? A rich man. All your mal- 
ice cannot harm him. And what we have is our friends’ 
also. We shall fight you now until we win. And Pete? 


TIMBER WOLVES 


347 


Let them find Pete if they can. The best help, the best law- 
yers money can buy, shall be his. Jack . . .” With shin- 
ing eyes she turned to Heritage. “Jack, tell him — tell 
them all of Captain Moyes. He died a rich man. And 
every penny of his money goes to my father.” 

Frame’s face was a study. 

“ Moyes left his money to charity,” he cried. 

“ He did not,” snapped Heritage. “ He left it to Phil 
Barkley, his old friend. Yes, it’s true. Oh, Mr. Frame, 
what have you lost? You might have been generous. The 
opportunity was yours. You might have redeemed every- 
thing of the past. You had us broken and dispirited. But 
God will not suffer your wickedness any longer. Peggy 
. . . was this the reason then? How blind I was! Was 
it for this then that you spoke as you did that night?” 

Before them all she held out her arms to him. 

“ You know it was. Jack . . . would you let your pride 
part us now? This money is the least thing in my life. 
Can you forgive the sorrow I gave you ... ? ” 

Alone of them all Sadie Williams did not wait to witness 
Frame’s discomfiture. Already she was walking quickly 
down the track leading to Gray Lagoon. At the turn-off 
to Berrigan’s Gum she hurried past with a shudder, not 
pausing until she found herself at Jean Salter’s grave beside 
the quiet waters. A little cry escaped her then. 

“ Jeannie . . . Jeannie, how glad you would have been. 
Why was you taken like that? They could have spared me 
so easily. And I wanted to die. And now ... I must 
live. I must fill your place. Not in their hearts — that 
could never be — but in their lives to care and tend for 
them. So kind they are. . . .” 

She threw herself face downwards in the long grass, her 
body suddenly convulsed. How long she remained thus she 
did not know. A voice roused her. She looked up and saw 
Pete Diamond standing beside her in the twilight. Over 
against the fence stood his horse, with Pup watching be- 
side. 

“ Why, Sadie, is it you ? ” said the cattleman. His black 
eyes searched her face, all swollen with crying. His own 
lip trembled. “You all loved her, you people. There, don’t 
look so scared. They ain’t caught me yet, and never will. 
I know jess where the police are. And Pup would give me 


348 


TIMBER WOLVES 


warning before they got within a mile of here. I jess come 
along to say good-by to Jeannie. I’m going to try for the 
mainland. Maybe I’ll come back one day. If not . . .” 
he shrugged his shoulders. “ Tell me about the rest of 
you.” 

The news of Framed discomfiture brought a ring of pleas- 
ure to his voice. 

“ That’s great, that is. And old Phil was Barkley after 
all. I reckon I guessed it though. But they didn’t seem 
any sense in saying so while the old man held his tongue. 
And now they’re to be rich. God bless Peggy, she was 
always Jeannie’s friend and mine.” 

“ Ain’t I your friend?” said Sadie chokingly. 

Pete smiled gravely. 

“ I never doubted it, old girl. Sadie, did you know Login 
was gone? They tell me he left on foot this afternoon 
for the west coast. Why, Sadie . . . you ain’t caring 
for that? Ain’t it the best that could happen? You don’t 
care ? ” 

She gripped his arm almost fiercely. 

“ Pete ... is that true, that Login’s gone ? Thank God 
if it is! You’ll think it strange for me to be saying such 
things. You knowing what . . . what happened . . .” 

“ Steady, Sadie. Yes, he’s gone right enough. They tell 
me he left the old camp about three. D’you know at first 
I had a mind to go after him and fetch him back. I’d do 
it if I thought you wanted him back. But you don’t. You 
ain’t caring any longer?” 

“ Caring? If you only knew how glad I am. Ain’t they 
been harm enough already that I should want him back. 
Weren’t it him that brought most all of our troubles? It 
were Login that sent Phil Adaire away from us, that tried 
to harm Peggy as he done me. It were him that killed 
Jeannie. . . .” But next second she could have bitten her 
tongue off. “ No — no. Pete . . . don’t listen. I don’t 
know what I’m saying.” 

“ Yes, you do, Sadie — you do. Login that killed 
Jeannie? By God, yes, you do ! Out with it ! ” 

“ Pete,” cried the girl appealingly. 

But the cattleman would not listen. Already the old- 
time madness was working in his face. 

" Don’t lie to me. You’ve known all the time it was 


TIMBER WOLVES 


349 

Login! Why did he do it? Quick ... I could strangle 
you for your slowness ! ” 

“ If you done that I’d thank you,” said Sadie. For a 
second longer she hesitated. Then her long brooding, her 
sickness of mind and body, culminated in an hysterical out- 
pouring of the bitterness which consumed her. She faced 
him panting. 

“ I hate him ... I hate him! Yes, it was Login! But 
he didn’t mean it for her. It was me he aimed to kill. Is 
they need to ask why. Must I talk of that ? They was a 
parson staying over-night at the ferry. I come up to tell 
Tom, and he said if I’d meet him at the big gum we’d talk 
it over and maybe he’d do what I wanted. I didn’t want to 
go. They was something in the way he spoke that fright- 
ened me. Twice before that he’d asked me to meet him 
there, but somehow I was scared to go. I didn’t trust him. 
Only this time he sort of made it a condition. . . . And 
Jeannie would come. She was wearing a white dress like 
me. They was nothing to let him know . . . Pete, for God 
Almighty’s sake come back. They’s murder in your eyes.” 

But the big fellow was already mounting his horse. He 
struck so cruelly with the spur that the startled animal shot 
down the track like an arrow from the bow. After them 
went the shrill, frightened cry of the red-haired girl: 

“Pete . . . come back! It was lies I was telling you. 
They ain’t nothing to it! Think what you’re doing . . . 
for Jeannie’s sake!” 

Judney and Solium Joe were yarning together outside the 
barn when the cattleman rode suddenly up to them out of 
the gloom. Without a word of greeting he dismounted and 
catching Pup by the collar led the dog to Judney. 

“ Mind the old dog for me, George, will you, till I get 
back? If I never do — and God knows it’s on the cards — 
give him to Sadie Williams. I reckon Jeannie would like 
it that way. Joe, lend me your shotgun.” . 

“I will, Pete, I will!” said the little man hurriedly. 
Something in his friend’s voice warned him not to question. 
He ran inside for the weapon. 

Judney laid a hand on Pete’s arm. 

“ It’s the police, eh? They’re after you? Ain’t that so? 
Ain’t they something we can do till Peggy gets to hiring her 
lawyer ? Pete ... old man. It’ll come all right.” 


350 


TIMBER WOLVES 


Pete looked at the old man gratefully. 

“ It ain’t the police, George. Listen ... I know now 
who felled Berrigan’s Gum that night. It was Tom Login! 
Sadie let it out, not meaning to. It was Login hurt Sadie. 
It was him killed Jeannie. It was him sent the police after 
me with his lying tongue. That much I could have passed 
by. But not this other. I’ll get Login now if I have to 
chase him over God’s creation. He daren’t tackle Pung’s 
Crossing in the dark. I can head him off there. And if 
he’s got his rifle with him, Joe’s old gun will even things a 
bit between us. Be kind to the dog.” 

He snatched the shotgun from Solium and rode swiftly 
off, heading for the filament of moon that hung above the 
crest of the far-off hills. In a few seconds the clatter of 
hoofs was swallowed up in the silence of night. 

With great patience Judney coaxed Pup to a corner of the 
barn and made him fast with a length of cord. Quite un- 
accountably the dog showed every sign of uneasiness. He 
refused food and water. Now and then he whined softly. 

Something of the animal’s reluctance to rest apparently 
communicated itself to the two men. They sat silently 
smoking by the light of a candle stuck on the end of Sol- 
ium’s bunk. At infrequent intervals one or other would 
rise and peer out into the chill night; afterwards resuming 
his seat with a half-ashamed glance at his companion. No 
word passed between them. 

As the long hours passed the dog’s uneasiness increased. 
He broke into a series of low, quick barks, tearing at the 
earthen floor of the barn with his fore-paws. His eyes 
gleamed like live coals in the shadows. When Solium rose 
to consult the tin clock hanging from a nail on the wall the 
dog strained on his rope in a kind of frenzy. There was 
something uncanny in the eager turn of his head as he 
watched the man’s every movement. 

“ What’s the time?” asked Judney in a low voice. 

Solium looked at his friend queerly. 

“ Nigh three o’clock, George. We’ve most sat the night 
through. Jess two old fools, I reckon. And yet I don’t 
know. Look at Pup. What’s the matter with him? 
What’s the matter with any of us ? ” 

The dog seemed to be losing his wits. A strangled snarl 
escaped him. He began to tear and snap at vacancy. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


35i 


Judney rose stiffly to his feet. His face was very sober. 

“ I feel like that myself. Joe, I’m feared for Pete. We 
never should have let him go by himself. You know what 
sort of man Login is — jess a wild beast man. Maybe Fm 
foolish, but my mind ain’t easy. They’s something in the 
air that seems all wrong. The dog there’s knows it — we 
know it, both of us. We can’t jess sit on like this . . . do- 
ing nothing.” 

“ No,” said Solium simply. 

The two men looked at each other. 

“ It ain’t right for so much trouble to hit one man,” said 
the lank hut-keeper slowly. “ Joe, we better get after Pete. 
I got a feeling he’s needing his friends mighty bad. And 
Jeannie would be looking to us to help. That’s so, ain’t 
it?” 

Without waiting an answer he crossed over to Pup, now 
spinning wildly at the end of the rope. 

“ Open the door, Joe.” 

In silence the little man complied. 

“ Find him, Pup,” said Judney huskily. 

As he slipped the leash from around the dog’s neck a 
lean tongue rasped his hand gratefully. The animal’s 
trembling limbs bunched themselves, the lithe body swung 
back and settled. Next moment Pup sprang through the 
doorway and vanished in the darkness. They heard the 
sharp scurry of his flying pads. Then quietness once more. 

“ They’ll be a frost, I’m thinking,” muttered Judney, 
irrelevantly. 

Solium did not answer. He seemed to be having trouble 
with the buttons of his bluey overcoat. 

They closed the door of the barn behind them. 


CHAPTER XXV 


P ETE DIAMOND lay on his face in the reeds and 
silver grass that fringed the high banks overlooking 
Pung’s Crossing. A mile back he had turned loose 
his horse and planted his saddle in a clump of dwarf honey- 
suckle. He did this last automatically, as if scarcely per- 
ceiving the motive which prompted the action. 

The cattleman was tired to the point of exhaustion. He 
lay supine, scarcely moving except to strain his eyes towards 
the east where a dull red stain heralded the dawn. In his 
ears was the rhythmical thud of waves combing the beaches 
beneath. Already the troubled water was brightening where 
the white crest of the breakers spun through the drifting 
gloom. The air, tinged with an almost imperceptible odor 
of dew-wet bush, stroked his face with ceaseless fingers of 
rime. The first frost of autumn had descended overnight 
upon the shrinking coastlands — black frost, invisible, alertly 
penetrating, laden with elemental threat. 

In spite of his exposure Pete was only faintly aware of the 
cold. A fever of rage burnt in his veins, his whole body 
was glowing towards the accomplishment of a set purpose. 
Long since he had given over any attempt at settled reason- 
ing. The old perplexities once again obscured his mental 
vision. The tired mind no longer cared to struggle for its 
half understood idealism. His whole outlook on life had 
suddenly become intensely, harshly practical. The lust to 
revenge clouded his reason like a fog, drawing him deep into 
the unplumbed savagery of his nature, threatening to part 
him forever from that phase of his existence which now 
assailed his consciousness but vaguely — as the nearly for- 
gotten imaginings of some beautiful, transitory dream. 
Once again he found himself face to face with the enigma 
of creation, the everlasting problem of the why and where- 
fore of all things. 

As the darkness eased the yellow-white gleam of the shift- 
ing sands grew faintly discernible. He was able to dis- 
tinguish the film of oily water stretching from side to side 

352 


TIMBER WOLVES 


353 


of the crossing. From the level of the shore the banks 
climbed abruptly inland, rising to uneven mounds of drift- 
dirt and broken shell stained by the evil discoloration of 
spray from the quicksands below. The only sign of herb- 
age was a gray weed spreading like a leprosy about the 
maw of the crossing itself. Elsewhere the growing light 
gave back only the dull reflection of salt-soaked barrenness. 

Pete had chosen his position well. Situated as he was 
midway along the narrow tongue of rock that split the sands 
with a fiber of solid footway, he dominated the one ap- 
proach to the high ground beyond. Unless Login deliber- 
ately chose to make a detour of eight or ten miles around the 
head of the swamps he must inevitably approach this spot. 

Little by little the mists of dawn lifted. Day broke to a 
chill zephyr of wind from off the sea. For some time, how- 
ever, the drab depression of sea and sky remained un- 
softened. Only the east forecasted the perfect morning hid- 
den behind the close banked clouds. There the horizon 
burned in a glory of tender radiance that cast streamers of 
amethyst and rose athwart the purple mantle of the fleeing 
night. The wonder of it would not be denied to even the 
morbidly engrossed imagination of the cattleman. For a 
moment he felt himself irresistibly drawn from the well of 
depression into which he was sinking. In his heart the 
charity of faith and comfort awakened to new impulse. 
Memory became a mirror reflecting only the verities of ex- 
istence. In the radiant splendor of the dawn he once again 
viewed hope without blemish, courage without illusion. He 
knew himself witness of the transforming tenderness of In- 
finite Benevolence. 

Only for a few seconds the sky held its glory. As if by 
magic the colors faded ; the cloud bank thickened and spread 
slowly upwards to the zenith; the air chilled anew. From 
the long shadows of the knolls came the complaining grunt 
of a badger. 

Once again Pete lay relaxed upon the grass, Solium’s old 
shotgun ready to his hand. But now, strangely enough, the 
proximity of the weapon seemed to trouble him. He looked 
at it distrustfully, putting out a hand to touch the chilled 
barrels. Somewhere at the back of his mind a memory was 
stirring. Words came to the tip of his tongue but escaped 
at the very moment of utterance. His tired mind seemed 


354 


TIMBER WOLVES 


unable to focus the thought. In an effort to recollect, Pete 
rose to his knees, fiercely impatient. As he did so his eyes 
fell on the figure of a man who picked his way cautiously 
along the sands towards the rib track of the crossing. 

Even as he recognized Login and sank swiftly back into 
hiding the cattleman knew no cessation of the struggle 
within his mind. Still his brain sought and sought for the 
memory that would not come. Dominating even the thrill 
of savage joy which swept him at sight of his enemy was 
this insistent, terrible prompting from out of the past. 
Pete’s eyes went to the shotgun, then back to the approach- 
ing man. His brows puckered. 

And then suddenly he understood. By God knows what 
miracle of re-creation or ecstasy of illusion there came to 
his ears the beloved echoes of Jean Salter’s voice, beseech- 
ing, pleading, exhorting . . . piercing the very depths of 
his being with its eager confident tones : 

“ Clean hands . . . clean hands ! Oh, Boy, as if any- 
thing else could really matter. Always clean hands . . . 
and let God judge the end. . . .” 

He rose once more to his knees, gripping the shotgun by 
the ends of the barrels. He raised the weapon above his 
head, swung, and released his hold. Exulting he watched 
the dull brown of its passing, saw it strike the surface of the 
quicksands. Then it was gone. But gone too was the 
terror of loneliness which had obsessed him. He felt himself 
to be no longer alone. In some extraordinary manner the 
spirit of the dead girl enveloped his consciousness like a 
cloak . . . shielding, comforting, clearing his brain of its 
madness. He stood upright, six feet of splendid manhood 
his face rugged, strong, passionate as ever, but now alight 
with divine understanding. For a single instant his gaze 
swept over the dawning prospect of land and sea. Behind 
him, to one side of him — God alone knew just where — 
rode the searching police. Before him was his escaping 
enemy. Unarmed he stepped from behind his cover. 

Login was already almost halfway over the crossing. At 
the sudden, unexpected appearance of the cattleman he 
came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening in angry amaze- 
ment. By accident or design he lowered the rifle from his 
shoulder in such a manner as to cover the man before him. 

Pete was smiling grimly. 


TIMBER WOLVES 


355 


“ So. I suppose you know why I’m here, Tom?” 

“ Maybe I do. And then again, maybe I don't,” said 
Login. For the moment he seemed dumbfounded. “ I 
don’t know that I care one way or the other.” 

“ I reckon we’ll have a little talk,” continued Pete, after 
a second’s pause. 

“ Not me,” said the ex-section boss. “ See here, I’m in a 
hurry. I’m due at Sandy Bay by mid-day. You knew I 
was leaving, anyhow. This end of the coast, and the folks 
on it, have about got on my nerves. They’s been too much 
damned psalm singing for my liking. The mines are good 
enough for me.” 

“ You’ll never see the mines,” said Pete slowly. 

For a minute the men measured glances. Login’s gums 
drew back in a feral grin. 

“You don’t say? Who’ll stop me?” 

“ I will,” said the cattleman. “ You’re going back with me 
to The Bend. You know why ! ” 

Login was peering from side to side. 

“ You tell me, Pete.” 

“ I’m going to. It’s because you’ve about reached your 
limit. All my life I seem to have waited for this day. A 
half-hour ago I had it in my mind to kill you. Maybe you’ll 
hang even yet. As it is I’m going to take you fair and hand 
you over to them that know how to deal with your sort. 
It ain’t for what you’ve done to me either. The lies you’ve 
told, the dirt you’ve played me — it ain’t that that counts. 
I could have passed that by; even what you aimed to do 
that night at Elbow Ridge. I’m going to make you face 
out now because of what you done to Sadie Williams, and 
because it was you that . . . killed Jeannie.” 

For an instant Login’s composure deserted him. 

“How did you know that? By God, I understand you 
now! But you’re wrong, anyhow. It was an accident, 
Pete. I swear I never aimed to hurt your girl. I never 
meant it for her.” 

“ Men like you ain’t fit to live,” said Pete tonelessly. 
“ You can say what you like, but I reckon I’ll take you 
back.” 

“ I say no,” said Login watchfully. 

“ But you’ll go jess the same. I know it and you know 
it. If they’s justice on earth you’re going back to get what’s 


356 TIMBER WOLVES 

coming to you. They’s no get-away for you this side of the 
grave.” 

“Why, you fool, they’ll get you too, won’t they?” said 
Login. He looked at Pete contemptuously, as if marveling 
at the big fellow’s little wit. “ You’ll be putting yourself 
away. Think again.” 

“ So long as you’re there beside me it’ll be all right,” said 
Pete. “ I reckon you’ll come.” 

“ I say no,” repeated Login. He licked his lips, tapping 
the stock of his rifle with his fingers. “ And this says no, 
too. Now what are you going to do? ” 

A little silence fell. Each man knew now that the other 
meant exactly what he said. Pete understood perfectly 
that if he did not move aside when Login called he would be 
shot down with as little compunction as though he were a 
dog. The shifting sands would mask all evidence of the 
crime. 

For all that the cattleman remained unafraid. 

“ Put that gun down,” he said quietly. 

“ You can’t say I never warned you,” replied Login from 
between his teeth. 

For just a second longer Pete hesitated. Was this to be 
the end then? And quite suddenly he knew that it was. 
The odds against him were too great. By casting away 
Solium’s shotgun he had deliberately thrown away this one 
chance of meeting this man on anything like even terms. 

Very slowly — almost longingly — his eyes traveled the 
wide sweep of well-remembered coastlands. Already the 
first beams of sunshine danced and flickered along the crests 
of the knolls. The green comeliness of the hills beckoned 
alluringly out of the far distance. His mind’s eye followed 
them inland over ridge and gully-bed, on and on to the quiet 
prospect of sheltered plain where dwelt his friends. Even 
now perhaps they were thinking of him — Charley Salter, 
the Adaires, those queer old mates and faithful friends, 
George Judney and Solium. And Heritage? Yes, he had 
always liked Jack Heritage. And maybe — nay, he knew 
— he would never see any of them again. Yet he did not 
regret. Thought of their security made him rejoice to the 
bottom of his big, unselfish heart. They, at least, were 
freed for a time from the insatiate greed, the cold malice 
of the timber wolves. Most of the lands of The Bend 


TIMBER WOLVES 


357 


would now remain in the hands of those that understood 
their rugged nature, that loved the spirit of the woods al- 
most as some sentient thing; that wrought amid their fast- 
nesses not for gain alone but of necessity and right, for the 
upholding of a principle, the vindication of a creed. 

Far up on the side of the knolls the currant bushes 
swayed and tossed as if to the passage of some swift intru- 
der. A lithe body momentarily flashed into view against 
the emerald green of a grass pocket set in a rift of living 
bush. But the cattleman was all unconscious of its passing. 
He had turned again to face his enemy. 

“ Tom, they’s no dodging the thing that's got to be. I'm 
going to take you back — if I can. You ain't never known 
me to break my word, whatever else. And that’s my word 
now. You’re going back to answer to the full for what you 
done jess as surely as the dawn is coming over the sea. 
You may shoot, but I don't reckon it can matter much. 
They’s a greater than me is taking a hand in this game. 
Man, you can’t bluff Almighty God. 

He move forward, his hands outstretched. 

“ Keep back,” cried Login in a panic. 

“ No,” said Pete simply. 

Without another word Login fired. That instant saw the 
consummation of his wickedness. 

“ You damned fool . . . you would have it,” he muttered 
hazily. “ I reckon I told no lie.” 

Even as he lowered his weapon to peer at the fallen man 
a form dropped like a flash of light from the ridge above. 
Something that looked like a copper streak hurled itself at 
him, white teeth fastened themselves in his throat, stifling 
the terrified scream that rose to his lips. The great body of 
the kangaroo dog clung snarling about Login’s shoulders, 
weighing him down, tearing at him with maddened fore- 
paws. He staggered backwards, his feet feeling wildly for 
solid ground. Then man and beast fell from the pathway 
into the yawning maw of the sands. 

Pup alighted uppermost, but too late to save himself. 
The slime engulfed his body to the haunches, sucking him 
deeper at every breath. With a desperate effort the dog 
balanced himself upon the threshing, suffocating body of the 
man below. And in that instant of life he gave tongue for 
the last time — a single note, mournful and despairing, yet 


358 


TIMBER WOLVES 


with an echo of something almost human in its deep appeal- 
ing cadence. He had met his enemy at last and conquered, 
and the faithful heart sought frantically to understand the 
absence of that quiet approving voice he loved so well. 

The dying man above heard and tried to answer, but his 
strength was gone. His eyes opened and the flicker of a 
smile came on his paling lips. 

“ Good old dog . . . Jeannie.” 

Five miles back two old men stumbled across the uneven 
plains, with anxious faces uplifted to the frosted dawn. 


THE END 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 





